


Needs More Salt

by forprussia



Series: I'm Figuring It Out, Okay? [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, M/M, Modern Boy in Thedas, Modern Character, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Era, Modern OC, Modern OC in Thedas, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:57:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 305,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4338419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forprussia/pseuds/forprussia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz is learning to cope with being in some weird, new world. He's even learning how to survive it. And then he meets Hawke and it all gets a bit confusing and complicated. Learning how to make lasting relationships wasn't something Fitz really did well, or at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit 12/11/2015: for any new readers, I've just changed the tags to include DAI so I just wanted to forewarn people (in case yall are expecting immediate DAI) that the first half of this story is all in DA2 (chapters 1-24). Inquisition starts with chapter 25.

Running, zig-zagging, a boy leapt over an overturned barrel as the sound of multiple pursuers followed after, steps that were quickly gaining on him.  As he landed, the boy kicked back, hitting the barrel and sending it rolling straight into the path of the group that undoubtedly held ill-will towards him at the time.  This ill-will most likely grew because as the lit lanterns came into view mere yards ahead, the boy heard the barrel hit its targets as shouts and curses accompanied some unfortunate, and painful, sounding thumps.

High-pitched laughter broke through the usual murmur of Darktown and passersby could connect it to the lanky elven boy heading straight for the building that served as a clinic for all the sick and injured people of the dilapidated area.  The door to the clinic was opening just as the boy was going in for another jump that would send him careening into the exiting person’s unsuspecting body.  However, seeing the in-coming elven-shaped projectile, the departing figure hastily stepped back.

Landing rather staggeringly, just barely inside the doorway of the clinic, the boy proceeded to turn around abruptly so that he was facing the thugs who had abandoned the chase and were now milling around a few feet away from the clinic.  He began to heckle his would be assailants. 

“Haha! Safe zone! Good luck next time, fucktrucks.” The boy, who looked to be around seventeen years old, grinned and waved at the huffing and scowling group of thugs as if congratulating them on a game well played. 

“Best watch yourself, you little rat! You gotta come out of there sometime and we’ll be waiting.” One of thicker looking thugs threatened before the group dispersed.  They slouched off and merged into the shadows and alleyways that made Darktown such a perfect area for crime, as well as the perfect area for hiding the various types of lowlifes perpetuating the crimes.

Seemingly undisturbed, the elf backed the rest of his way into the run down clinic, kicking the door shut as he did so.  He ignored the curious look on the face of the human he had almost ran into.

‘O _uch, that would have hurt. That man has the height of a fucking tree,_ ’ the elf thought to himself, ‘ _and the biceps of Chris Hemsworth_ ’.  He made his way towards the closest cot, sending a cheery smile to the other, this time familiar, human who looked vaguely amused and annoyed by his entrance. “How’s it goin’, Anders?”

The man called Anders sighed and went back to putting away the tools of his trade.  He'd had a really rough day and would have very much liked to sleep soon, just so that he could at least lessen the headache that got marginally larger with the addition of the mischievous elf boy in his presence. “Ah, Fitz.  You know I hate it when you use my clinic as a place of asylum.  One of these days, those thugs are just going to follow you in.  And I am closed for the day, in case you cannot tell.”

“So, what?  You gonna send me back out there?  I’ll be murdered!” The kid acted offended and mockingly alarmed at the prospect, which garnered a snort from the tired mage and raised eyebrows from the huge human who now leant against the wall, seemingly forgetting the fact that he was leaving not a minute ago.  Fitz tried to subtly side-eye the giant as he sat himself down on his chosen cot, stretching out his sore legs in order to relieve the slight cramps that accompanied his rather impromptu sprint across Darktown.  "Also, they would never ignore the golden rule of this place.  No one invades your clinic and gets away with it."

"Except for you.  Apparently." 

Fitz paid little mind to Anders' retort, prefering to study the giant standing across the room.  The human was not unhandsome, with shaggy black hair and a full beard that did nothing to hide the slight smirk which looked like it was probably a permanent fixture on the man’s roguish face.  Fitz tried not to focus too much on the rippling muscles that were highlighted by the man’s crossed arms (and his sleeveless choice of fashion), but really.  ‘ _T_ _hat’s not fair_ ’, the boy thought.  His own arms were well muscled out of necessity and circumstance but even back home Fitz had never been able to achieve the “ripped” physique that was so appealing. ‘ _A_ _lthough, that might have been more due to lack of dedication,_ ’ Fitz pondered, ‘ _I always got bored after ten minutes_ ’. 

Fitz’ attention was brought back at the sound of the man finally speaking, “So, Anders, is this a friend of yours or do street urchins habitually make flying leaps through your doorway for fun?” Fitz finally deigned to openly look at the now grinning man straight on.

“For fun? That was a leap of pure desperation – a leap to salvation, into th–” Fitz was abruptly cut off by the slightly exasperated, slightly amused reply of Anders.

“No, Hawke.  Fitz is the only one who makes a habit of starting fights and then escaping them by calling sanction on my doorstep,” He shot an annoyed look to the nonchalant elf before continuing, “and proceeds to ignore my advice and try my hospitality”.

“Haha.  You said ‘hospitality’.” Fitz’ brain immediately chuckled over the unintentional pun which earned him two rather confused looks, one of which carried more resignation than the other.

“Nice.  You should open a children’s playroom next, eh, Anders?” The Hawke guy snickered at his joke and at Ander’s groan of reply.  Fitz rolled his eyes, the ‘kid’ jokes were old and he was more than immune to them by now.  However, he was bored.  And this new guy seemed to actually have a sense of humor, so obviously that was his reasoning behind his decision to actually acknowledge the guy. 

Fitz stood up lazily, stretching lightly as if waking from a short lie down, “Oh, you sure are hilarious, grade A funny,” Fitz squinted, giving Hawke a look over, “at least your looks are.”

Not his best, but if Hawke played along the barbs would hopefully get better.  Hawke stared for a moment and then surprised the boy by actually laughing.  Fitz could not help but smirk a little as he began to saunter up to the tall human.  Only mildly put down by the drastic height difference, Fitz craned his neck in order to keep eye contact as he breached the prescribed social boundaries that are one’s personal space. 

Hawke had stopped laughing in order to watch, curiously, as this little elf kid began to amble up to him.  He even began to feel uncomfortable, once he realized the elf was not stopping at a few feet’s distance.  He moved his head to follow the kid that seemed to be intent on inspecting his body, weapons, and clothing.  He tried to step back but the kid was undeterred and simply followed while poking at the straps that held his daggers and then the leather of his armor.  Meanwhile, Anders had finished tidying up and had taken to watching the interaction with unconcealed amusement over his friend’s obvious discomfort at the hand of the inquisitive and strange elven boy. 

Finally taking pity on Hawke, Anders interrupted Fitz, who had begun to fling incessant and nonsensical questions at the poor man.  Anders was reminded of a large dog that had absolutely no clue with what to do with a small swatting kitten.  Thinking back to good old Sir Pounce a Lot, Anders said, “He is playing with you, Hawke.  Simply flick him and tell him to go away, or better yet, to go _home_.”  Fitz gave him a wounded look and was about to say something in return when he was promptly flicked on the head, none too gently, by Hawke who also ordered him to ‘shoo’. 

Fitz scowled as the older men laughed at his expense and felt his earlier interest in annoying this new Hawke fellow wane as he bit back a yawn.  “Alright, but only on account of the fact that you’re both boring old men,” Fitz retreated, rubbing his forehead, and flopped face first on his cot.  He heard Anders sigh and approach.

“Go to sleep in your own bed, Fitz.  Not the ones meant for my patients.”

"I don't _got_ a bed, you insensitive jerk," Fitz practically whined at the man, who winced at bit as he realized his faux pas.  Still, he stood over the boy, arms crossed, and gave him a stern look; telling him to go home.  Fitz got rid of the scowl, and exchanged it for a pout.

“Aw, man.  Please.  I’ll help you set up tomorrow morning, I swear.”  Now that he was laying down, it was becoming hard to keep his eyes open.  He knew Anders wasn't _actually_ going to kick him out, and so he didn't bother to further plead his case; he just made himself comfortable on the cot he'd commandeered for the night.  Though the boy was already beginning to fall asleep, he did hear Anders sigh one last time.

“Fine.  I’ll treat you to my lecture on health and self-care while we’re at it.  Bright and early." 

“Whatevs...” Fitz heard him begin to walk away, and he dozed to the sounds of murmuring before finally falling asleep.  He didn't hear what the other two were talking about and he didn't notice when the other guy, Hawke, left.  It'd been a long day.

He was exhausted, and Anders' clinic just happened to be the safest place in Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	2. Oh No, It's You Again

The first thing I want to write is this: waking up has always been chore for me.  Even before Thedas, I had trouble waking up on time.  If I had been able to finish senior year, there is no doubt that I would have been voted ‘Most Likely to Be Late to Graduation’. 

As I lay on the flat cot, only half registering Anders’ attempts at getting me out of bed.  I allowed myself to spare one thought of what life would have been like if the clusterfuck that tore me from home six months ago had not happened.  It would be summer by now.  I would be working as a bar-back on nights and hanging with my friends during the day.  As always, thoughts like these brought along the faint feeling of loss that I have not been able to escape since waking up in another world.  Bitterness closed my throat, but before I could truly become properly resentful towards life and its vicious way of screwing over innocent youths, I was hit on the head by what felt suspiciously like a hair brush.

“OW!”

“I told you ten times to get up.  You sleep like the dead,” was Anders’ unforgiving retort. “Help me set up like you said you would and maybe I’ll feed you while you’re here.”

I shot up at that and hurried to help. 

In my very first days of living in Kirkwall, once I had maneuvered my way out of the underground passageway I found myself in, I had taken to wandering the streets of Darktown as part of my daily routine.  I hadn't even traveled beyond Darktown yet and I was still so new that I didn't know where anything was.  I was jumped by a group of thus only, unlike what happened last night, I had not been able to outrun my assailants.  The only thing of worth that was taken from me were a few quarters, which my attackers probably figured was foreign currency, though I am sure they got nothing of value for them.  Oddly enough, they did not steal my patched up parka.  Actually, I was slightly insulted over this; it was as if they thought it was ugly or bad quality.  I mean, there were some questionable stains on it and the patch to coat ratio was becoming unbalanced, but it also had a (fake) fur lined hood!  They probably just couldn’t grasp the concept of a zipper.  And then there were my boots!  They were practically brand new, and yet the thugs didn't even look at them.  I suspect they jumped me just because they felt like beating on a random victim; I would soon learn that those sorts of occurrences were typical for pretty much all of Kirkwall.

Anyways, back to the point, after I was left slumped against a dirty wall, a kind soul actually helped me up.  Now, I went to an inner city public school and so, I was no stranger to the occasional beating.  However, those thugs had really laid into me.  I was sure that I had no broken bones, though my helper did not seem as sure because he was very cautious not to bump into my torso, for which I was very grateful.  I was led to a nearby building which I would eventually come to know as Anders’ clinic and was carefully propped up against the wall near the entrance.  The place was packed and I watched my helper catch the attention of a tall blond man who looked extremely harried.  The blond man waved back in our direction and my helper took that as the end of whatever duty he felt towards me.  Thinking back to it, he had probably watched me get the tar beat out of me and felt guilty for not stepping in.

“Anders will put you back together, lad, just you stay and watch yourself from now on.” I nodded, keeping my head down for I was not quite up to looking into anyone’s eyes at the moment.  My helper left the clinic and I had no choice but to direct my attentions to the man who was apparently going to fix me.  He was going through a line of patients, a line which I was clearly at the end of.  I see this as pure luck on my part because seeing as I was not anywhere close to being next, I was given the chance to watch Anders actually perform his trade.  I sat there, clutching my side, as I openly stared at the light that came from the healer’s hands as he attended to a heavily wounded patient.  Stab wounds and the like that would have been sewn up and bandaged in my world were knitted together with magic, leaving only the slightest hint red where the wound had once been.  My experience with magic was purely observational on that day because once I collected myself, and shook off the dizziness that plagued my mind, I turned around and limped out of the clinic as subtly as I could.  Anders does not remember me from that day and it's a good thing I was able to leave.  If he had tried to heal me with magic, not only would I have had a panic attack but he would have had plenty of questions.

Running around the clinic now, after months of hanging around and learning Anders’ usual rituals in getting the place ready for patients, it wasn’t that hard to make sure everything was set for the day to come.  Only a few minutes passed before I was shoved a bowl of oatmeal (or something much like it) which I happily inhaled.  Anders was not very chatty in the mornings so we existed in comfortable silence as we ate.  A huge part of the reason I loved helping Anders out was because he would usually always insist on feeding me in return. 

Before I learned that elves (which had been made abundantly clear to me that, by Thedas standards, I was considered one) lived in a ghetto like place called an alienage, I had been roaming the streets practically starving.  Even though I eventually found a place to live in, food was still not as abundant as I would prefer.  In my entire life, I’d never had to go days without food.  My family did alright; my dad was a teacher at a school in the suburbs.  He even taught night classes which were actually held at my school.  I used to bring him dinner on those days.  Basically, we weren't rolling in it, but we also never had to go without.  

I washed our bowls and as I was leaving I was once again reminded by the dear healer to be careful and to stay out of fights.  I waved lazily in response and made my way out of Darktown, thankfully making it without getting jumped this time.

~

My first stop of the day was at the alienage, where I dropped off my portion of rent to the hahren, Reeba.  When I first showed up at the alienage, she immediately took me in and allowed me to sleep in her living room.  It was not the most ideal living arrangements, but it was the best I could get with no family or ties within the elven community. 

It took me forever just to come to terms with the facts that, 1) elves were apparently considered second class citizens, or worse 2) they were crammed into tiny, overpopulated apartments with no chance of expanding so to accommodate families with more suitable living space and, finally, 3) that I was considered an elf. 

Back home, elves are not a thing.  They do not exist outside of myths and stories.  Otherwise I’m sure science would have found something out by now.  As it were, I could see why I was seen as an elf here.  I held similar features; the big eyes and, most importantly, the pointy ears.  Pointy ears were commonplace in my world, just a simple genetic makeup that certain people were born with.  My ears, like most people back home, weren’t the long, sloping ears seen on many elves in Thedas.  However, they were long enough for the points to be visible and the fact of the matter was that I simply did not resemble the humans of Thedas the way I did with the humans back home.  I was thin and small when I first arrived in Thedas, but that was again due to genetics.  My dad didn't get his growth spurt until he was in his later teens, so I suspected I'd be the same way.  And I did grow a lot during my time in Thedas, and it seemed barely any time had gone by at all before I was the tallest elf in all of Kirkwall.  Even now, there are some humans that I am actually taller than, which never fails to confuse everyone who gets to see the odd sight.

Reeba seemed glad to see me all in one piece as she accepted my coins, but as usual she was busy.  As hahren, it was basically her job to keep the alienage together.  It wasn't an easy job for just one person, and it was made ten times harder when you factor in the overflowing number of elves that lived here.  I slipped out quickly after arriving, after briefly cleaning myself up (cleanliness remains a habit I cannot kick).  After that, I headed over to chat with some of the loitering elves congregated near the city tree. Most of the elves just called it the vhenadahl, which was apparently its elven name, even though none of them could tell me its exact translation.  The elves I joined were of various ages that were close to mine though I’ve really only made a total of two friends in the alienage.  Even in a totally different world, I’m considered weird.

“Yo, Sovin.” I greeted as per usual as we clasped hands and bumped chests while the others were too indifferent by now to call us out for the weird greeting ritual.  One of the things I liked about Sovin was that he actually put up with my stupid need to emulate things from back home and, while he may not have known that my oddities were coping mechanisms, he never questioned me. 

Sovin grinned at me, like always, and began to tell me whatever gossip I had been missing out on.  Today, the gossip centered on our other friend, Garras, who was absent from this little pow-wow.  Sovin told me that, while I had been running for my life, Garras had been living it up at the Hanged Man and had to stay there all night because he missed gate closing time.  He had arrived just before me, exhausted but smug and with a brief mentioning of ‘legs that went on for days’, which was enough for the others to get all excited and jealous.  As Garras was from a respected family, the others our age looked up to him and he had all the confidence of an all-star jock.  He actually wasn’t that bad of a guy, just a bit of a tool.  Eventually we had to disperse and go about our daily chores and jobs, and for me that meant leaving the alienage once again. 

I delivered missives for merchants in Lowtown, and occasionally Hightown, which had me running around for many hours on most days.  A few months ago, after finding my way to the alienage, I found myself in the sort-of employment of an elf named Athenril.  She was the leader of a small-time smuggling ring that operated within Kirkwall.  I had heard from the other elves that she did recruiting in the alienage sometimes, though most of them knew to steer clear of her.  Of course, I was in dire need of cash, so I disregarded all the warning bullshit and joined up.  It was sketchy as fuck (and sometimes led to me being chased all throughout Darktown in the dead of night), but money was money and no other places were willing to hire elves.  Besides, that job was what allowed me to find other work as a messenger.  Once I proved myself a good worker, Athenril gave me some pretty good recommendations as a discrete errand boy.  And it was definitely a nice change to be able to rely more on day-time work, even though I still had to do my fair share of work for Athenril or else I'd probably lose everything.

I didn’t find out until much later that Hawke and his sister had been in her servitude for a year, although their year was up way before I ever showed up.  It explained a lot, too, what with how much Hawke disliked my working for her.  But, that comes up later. When me and Hawke got closer.

It took me a little while to reach Hightown, where I had to deliver my report on thug activities in Darktown to Athenril.  It earned me only slightly more money than the pick-pocketing I did during my field work for that report, but whatever.  Between that and my other deliveries, I made enough money for me to end the day early.  I bade Athenril a cheery goodbye and went on my way, feeling free and even a bit energetic.  I had just enough time to explore the Chantry’s libraries before I had to return to the alienage for lockdown. 

I was only there for maybe an hour at most, having little luck with finding anything substantial to read, when I heard a commotion downstairs.  Peering over the ledge, I saw a familiar muscular figure talking with the Grand Cleric.  I observed, in what I hoped was a stealthy manner, taking note of the three other figures accompanying the annoying musclehead.  I crouched since that seemed less blatant than leaning halfway off the ledge and, from what I could make out, Hawke had with him what looked like a dwarf, an elf (who I actually recognized!), and a guardswoman with the brightest red hair I’d ever seen. 

Unfortunately, I was caught by the dwarf.  As if feeling my gaze, he began looking around and almost immediately turned his attentions upwards.  As casual as could be, his eyes moved in my direction.  I couldn’t make out his facial expression from here but I attempted to remain natural, on the ground, after having flailed backwards at the dwarf’s sudden glance.  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Hawke finished his conversation and I only marginally freaked when I saw the dwarf lean in and point in my direction.  I flailed again, because I was obviously on a roll with the stealthy spy-work today, and scooted backwards, to the bemusement of the two Chantry sisters a few feet away from me.  I waited a beat, until I decided it was safe for me to move unseen. I stood and hurried to hide out by the bookshelves.  As it turned out, it was useless for me to even try.  In the quiet of the Chantry, I could clearly hear a pair of footsteps heading up the stairs, coming my way. 

I cringed when I heard Hawke’s lively voice ring out, “Ah, I suppose now that I’ve run into you once, I’ll be seeing you everywhere from now on.”

“Yo.” I greeted, sounding only slightly sullen.  I gave up hiding behind my book and looked up at him.  He was doing that one raised eyebrow thing and I was surprised to note that of his companions, only the dwarf accompanied him.  The dwarf was looking at me curiously, but it felt good-natured, if anything. 

“Varric tells me you were trying to spy on us.  Though he, ah, caught you by your less than subtle attempt to hide it.” The guy was actually laughing at me!  I gave the dwarf, otherwise known as Varric, a sour look that only made him grin. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be in a Chantry.  Surprised me, is all.” I replied.

“You’re surprised?  After last night, the last place I expected to see you again was in a Chantry of all places.  What are you reading?” He leaned over, trying to get a good look at the book.  I groaned inwardly at my ability to attract curiosity.

“Nothin’.  Was just leaving.  I can’t even read.  I just like to pretend ‘cuz the sisters will usually give me sweets.” I said that in a low voice, because while of course I could read, the sisters actually did in fact give me sweets when they saw me focusing on texts for long periods of time.  I think they thought it cute and wished to encourage it.

Hawke raised both eyebrow, which I ignored in favor of hastily putting the book back, and Varric didn’t even look remotely convinced.  I wasn’t trying all that hard so I can’t say I blame them.  I shrugged and side stepped the pair of them, though that only resulted in them following me.

“A book on the creation of Thedas?  Interesting topic, if a little surprising, no offense intended.” I cursed inwardly as Hawke continued, “So, you often come to the Chantry to read obscure books of a metaphysical nature?”

“Uh, big word.  I dunno.” I think I said that too mockingly because Varric laughed, but Hawke remained undeterred.

“Do you often stay the night at Anders after running from Coterie thugs?”

“I guess so.  I like my face the way it is, so yeah.” I was a little annoyed he brought that up because now Varric looked even more curious.  We had made it to the bottom of the stairs where we now came into view of their two other companions.  Up close, I saw that the elf really was Merrill, who lived next door to me and the hahren.  I often saw her asking others for directions and she was always being distracted by one thing or another. 

She smiled at me, “Oh, Fitz! What a surprise! What are you doing in the Chantry?” She ended the question in a lilting tone of vague confusion which I resented just because I wanted to forget that my Chantry hideaway was now found out. 

“Hiya, Merrill.  Was just in the area, ya know.” I mumbled, shifting awkwardly, wanting to just leave, but couldn’t because Merrill was way too nice to be rude to.  This gave Hawke a chance to throw an unwelcome arm around my shoulders and then he proceeded to lead all of us out of the Chantry, including the silent but watchful guardswoman.  I tried to lean away but Hawke gave no inclination of letting go and I really did not feel like making a scene.  He starting talking as we walked down the long hallway, “You know Fitz too, Merrill?”

“Of course! He’s my neighbor.  He helped me find my way to Hightown, once...or twice?  Thank you again for that, da’len.” The way she beamed at me, I was surprised I didn’t blush harder.  I looked aside and muttered that it was no problem. 

“How about you join us for dinner, eh, Fitz?  Have you eaten?” I was about to decline Hawke but he barreled on, “Don’t you think that’s a nice idea, Merrill?”

Merrill’s response was exuberant, “Oh, yes!  Fitz, you must!  You are looking a bit peckish.” Here she frowned and actually leaned in close to my face, “Reeba said you often miss meals.” I swear she would have poked my cheek if Hawke had not cut in again.

"Then it’s settled!  To the Hanged Man, it is!  Anders might be there already as well.” He added this as an almost conciliatory gesture for pretty much kidnapping me into going to dinner with them.  Of course, I couldn’t refuse now that Merrill was on board for the idea.  It wasn’t a crush, I just really liked her as a person, alright?

“Yippee. You can pay for my meal, too.  It’ll be grand!” I said it in as unenthused a voice as I could manage.  Then, I craned my neck to look up at the weird man who had his arm around my shoulders.  Merrill happily proclaimed my proposal a great idea and Hawke didn’t look so much as put out by it so I figured he couldn’t be all that bad of a guy. 

They were an odd group of people and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in spending an evening with them all.  As we made our way across Hightown, I idly thought that maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to branch out a little.  I was only just beginning to see that Hawke was more than a simple yet nosy man. 

After only running into him twice, the back of my mind was telling me that Hawke was a good guy; a good guy who most likely saw through my street urchin façade, despite the fact that this was also only his second time meeting me.  I didn't know how perceptive Hawke was back then, or how perceptive all of them were, to be honest.  Hawke probably knew I was more than just another poor city elf, but I know for a fact that he had absolutely no clue about exactly how different I truly was.


	3. The Hanged Man

Hawke had the weirdest friend group I had ever seen in my entire life.  Back then, I truly believed I would never see anything weirder than his group of misfits.  At first, I had no idea where I was to stand amongst them though fitting in was made much easier due to Hawke’s insistence on practically adopting me.  He actively sought me out whenever he was visiting Merrill and there were times where I swear he had eyes on my daily routine because he also began to show up whenever I was running errands around the city.  This became even more obvious when all of my trips to Darktown ended without me even having to run for my life.  Seriously, I could go to Darktown in the middle of the night and not even get a little mugged.  I was definitely not about to complain about my new protected status but there was that suspicious part of me that couldn’t help but wonder why Hawke went through all the trouble to ensure I was okay.  I also couldn't help but wonder why the hell he tried so hard to obtain my friendship when there wasn’t even much for me to offer in exchange.  Hell, I wasn’t even nice to the guy half the time.  Although, to be fair, I think our kindred spirits of sarcasm and inappropriate humor did help to create the special bond between us, much like how it began his friendship with Varric. 

The next few months saw me quickly integrating myself with Hawke and his merry band of oddballs.  It had taken me six months to blend in enough so as not to get mugged on a regular basis (and by this, I mean not only in Darktown, but in the alienage as well) and my friend count was at an outstanding total of two elves; both of whom knew nothing about me except that I occasionally knew how to have a good time.  After I met Garrett Hawke, I found myself with more than a handful of people who would actually stand by me in a fight and that was only after two months at the very least.  However, unlike my two elven buddies, Garrett Hawke also meant questions upon questions and it wasn’t always just him doing the questioning.  Varric, Merrill, Anders, and even Aveline became interested in my life story after it became obvious that Hawke had unceremoniously took guardianship over me. 

I was lucky I had six months to prepare some sort of passable backstory but, sadly, even that was not enough time.  I still only had the most basic understanding of Thedas which made in-depth conversations about where I was from and my life before Kirkwall (for it was very obvious that I was no native of the city) dangerous topics.  So, I did what most people would do in my shoes and took the easy way out.

~

“Where did you live before?  Pardon me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem very Dalish and I cannot for the life of me place your accent.” was the first question Varric asked me at the Hanged Man that evening, after Hawke had all but kidnapped me from the Chantry.

“Eh, a few places.  Can’t really remember much, the names of towns in Ferelden all sound the same.” I took a long sip from what tasted like watered down beer and made a show of clenching my fists and darting my eyes away from the people listening before muttering, “I don’t really care to talk about it.”

When I glanced back at Varric with a slight cringe, I saw that his eyes had gone softer and he quickly changed the subject thus taking attention away from myself for the time being.  Fist pumping mentally, I thanked my lucky stars for my affinity for acting which had always gotten me out of trouble back home, especially in school. 

The evening began with just a table consisting of Hawke, Merrill, Varric, and me.  Aveline had left us before leaving Hightown, saying something about work.  Somewhere along the line we were joined by Anders, who did not seem surprised to see me, and a woman named Isabela who captured the attention of the entire bar with her entrance.  However, this seemed to be a common occurrence because everyone went back to their business after only a moment of staring.  She disappeared quickly and came back down, wearing only slightly more clothing then she had arrived in.  She doted on me immediately.  As I was eating, trying not to inhale the meal like a heathen, another elf sat down at our table. 

Now, this is where I should mention that I had met Fenris on multiple different occasions before this fateful evening and I had absolutely no idea that he even knew Hawke before that day.  So, really, all I could do to stave off the shock was to mildly choke on the food I had been slowly eating.

He scowled in my general direction before sending an accusing, yet typical, “You!” at me.  I eventually recovered from my shock, long enough to breathlessly thank Merrill for the rather painful back pats she had so helpfully delivered, and gawked at the elf sitting, and still scowling, diagonal from me. 

“You’ve met Fitz before then, Fenris?” Hawke inquired.  Scrambling to think of something to say, I jumped in just as Fenris was opening his mouth to no doubt slander my very name.

“I’ve ran into him a couple of times.  Uh, literally.  I mean, not always literally but there were two times, okay, maybe three, in which I might have…..uh.  It’s complicated.” I waved my hands as if to dispel the importance from the issue, “It’s totally not interesting or important.” and okay, I should have just kept my big mouth shut because now the entire table was looking at me with varying levels of confusion, interest, amusement, and annoyance.

And Fenris, stupid Fenris, opened his mouth and said, “He accosted me in my own home.  He is lucky I did not kill him for attempting to jump me.  And for stealing from me.” He leveled me with a severe stare.

With everybody now looking at me once again I tried to save face, “Okay, one! I did not steal anything that was yours. I even asked. And two! I, like, flailed at you. And tripped on you.  I’m pretty sure you know the difference between tripping and actively trying to assault someone which, in my case, would be totally crazy because you could probably kill me with your pinky finger.” I was beginning to wonder if the water in front of me was actually something a bit strong, because I was having trouble shutting up.  I knew I was talking too much, and with too much vernacular, but I was mollified by the fact that no one at the table looked suspicious or hostile.  I mean, Fenris looked kind of hostile, but that was usually just his default expression.

Despite what he said, Fenris knew I was harmless, even when he found me rifling through the things in his mansion many months ago.  I actually think this was his weird way of making fun of me in front of the others, believe it or not.

It was pure chance that I found what I thought was an abandoned mansion.  It was unlocked and I needed to get off the streets.  This was before I found out about the alienage but a good week or so after what I fondly think of as my first beating in Darktown.  Fenris surprised the ever living shit out of me when he popped up out of nowhere, right as I was looking through a couple of books.  Being me, I had promptly spazzed, fell from the chair I was standing on, and would have taken him with me if he had not been so strong.  Instead, I fell on him rather than the floor.  I was promptly pushed off of him, roughly, and my back hit the tall bookshelf I'd been taking books from.  He quickly assessed the situation and dubbed me harmless, and probably incompetent.  All he did was scowl and tell me to get lost. 

Now, a good many months later, I tried again to salvage my dignity, by pouting and saying, “I don’t always give off the best first impressions.”  All this did was earn me a snort from Anders and Hawke as well as another scoff from Fenris.

Isabela cooed and leaned over to say, “Aw, aren’t you just precious?  My first impression of you is that you are absolutely adorable.”  I then, of course, replied in the form of a deep blush, much to the laughter of the others.  Merrill also chimed in, “Oh!  I agree with Bela.  Do not worry about mean old Fenris, da’len.” and she reached over, presumably to play with my hair or pinch my cheeks, who knows.

 “Agh! Merrill, don’t.” I whined, leaning back and trying to fend off being mollycoddled in front of everyone. 

“You’ll have to tell us the other run-ins you’ve had with Broody, kid.” Varric had that twinkle in his eyes from before, which was becoming a familiar sight.

“Yeah, sure.” I replied, looking back to Fenris only to see that he was now engaged in conversation with Hawke.  Relieved, I returned to my now cold food and listened as Isabela began revel us with a tale that became raunchy in like zero minutes flat.

~

That evening changed my life forever.  Now, that may sound overdramatic but it is also totally and utterly true.  It was as I mentioned previously, the next few months of my life after meeting Hawke and his friends were like an induction into a lively and potentially dangerous after-school club.  I found more friendship in those few months than I did in the last few years of my life back home. 

I did not accompany Hawke on the millions of missions like his other companions, but he always found time for me afterwards.  Whether it was seeking me out for an evening at the Hanged Man, which usually always promised a free meal, or simply walking with me as I traveled between Lowtown and Hightown delivering messages and the likes to merchants and clients.  It was on one such job that Hawke discovered my semi-employment under Athenril.  He had followed me to my last message delivery of the day, which was in Lowtown as I recall, and was quick to question me when I did not head in the direction of the alienage. 

Hawke was jovial and there was a jaunt in his step as he easily kept pace with me as we walked through the bazaar.

“Now, how about we head to the tavern? I know for a fact you haven’t eaten yet so you can’t say no.”

Awkwardly, I tried to explain that I had one last job to do in Darktown and told him I would see him around later.  However, he ignored my attempts at saying goodbye and continued with me despite my insistence that he need not come.

“So you may get yourself killed in some alleyway?” Hawke scoffed and crossed his arms, glaring at anyone who looked at us funny, “Besides I find myself curious to see what job sends a boy to such a place at this hour.”

He probably already knew, or at least had an inkling of what I was up to.  Still, when my delivery was complete, he seemed annoyed.  He had known the man I delivered to, they exchanged nods before the man disappeared from our view.  Hawke did not give me the chance to question him before he beckoned me to follow him out of Darktown.  His stride was much longer and faster than mine, so I had to up my pace a lot in order to walk alongside him.

I remember I had to practically jog just to keep up with him and he did not slow his pace until we near the gates of the alienage.  When he finally looked at me, his annoyance seemed to deflate.  I watched him heave a sigh, and, to me, he seemed much older than his years and more world-weary than he ever let on before.  He asked me why I worked for Athenril and, when I expressed my surprise, he explained that he had been at her service for the first year of his life in Kirkwall.  He told me I shouldn’t be getting myself involved with smugglers; that I was too young to know the consequences.

This was the first time I ever got mad at Hawke.  I wasn’t, like, outrageously pissed, but I sure was indignant.  I had been doing the best I could, given my circumstances.  Without the money from Athenril I probably would've still been living on the streets.  I was angry enough that I told him all this.  I was so angry, I still remember the last words I spoke to him before storming off.

“While I appreciate the concern, get off it.  I'll do me and you do you, yeh?  So, if ya don't mind, I’ma go sleep on the floor of the only place in the alienage I can afford.  Thanks to the goddamned smugglers money I earn.”  I didn’t even turn around when he tried to call me back.  I pretty much flat out ran to Reeba’s house, like the child everyone liked to say I was. 

Two days later Merrill asked me to move in with her.


	4. Thoughts, Questions, Sadness

In the first few weeks of living with Merrill, I’d seen Hawke and co more times than I could count. I rarely even saw Sovin and Garrus that often and they were my friends! It had gotten to the point that I became surprised if over a day went by without my seeing Hawke or one of the others (Merrill excluded, of course). Since looking back on the beginning of my relationship with Hawke, it’s become clear to me exactly how invasive a person the man truly was, at least when he sets himself to a particular goal. He achieved this one rather beautifully because I had no qualms with accepting new friends. I wasn’t good at doing it myself, as I have probably mentioned a lot by now, but Hawke had a way of adopting strays. 

~

Merrill was up early. Despite being a deep sleeper, even I could not sleep through her bustling about. With an arm still thrown over my head, I peered out through one eye at the busy elf.  She was tearing through piles of stuff, obviously looking for something, and seemed rather distressed.

“Whatcha looking for?” I asked through a yawn.

Merrill threw her pillow at the wall and suddenly exclaimed, “Aha!”, before happily tying what must have been a missing scarf around her neck. She turned towards me, face already apologetic, “I’m so sorry, Fitz! I didn’t mean to wake you up. Though it is rather late, you know.”

Groaning, I began getting myself together. Yesterday had been excruciatingly long, with a lot more running to and fro than usual. Needless to say, my legs were killing me.  I started to change, which caused Merrill to gasp and turn away.  I cringed and muttered an apology to the blushing elf.  I really had made myself at home here.  I actually felt comfortable in Merrill’s home and with Merrill and as such, forgot social customs such as leaving the room while getting undressed.  I had done it to her a couple of times, the first of which included many apologies from Merrill, although I think she is beginning to get used to it.  It’s not like I get full on nude in front of her, even I’d be embarrassed over that.

I still managed to leave before Merrill, promising to meet her at the Hanged Man in the evening, and darted my way out of the alienage.  I really was later than usual and, what with nearly habitual visits to the Hanged Man lately, I rarely ever had time to do anything outside of work.  Determined to make time for reading, I hurried through a day’s work as errand boy extraordinaire.  Despite Hawke’s intervention with my living arrangements, I was still working for Athenril, just without the nighttime trips to Darktown.  The rent I pay Merrill is astronomically less than what I had been paying, though I don’t know if that has more to do with Hawke than Merrill’s sheer kindness, which I would also readily believe.  Even so, I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I finished up in good time, though I still took longer than I’d like.  I pretty much tore down the Chantry’s doors in my rush and received some nasty glares from a group of sisters standing nearby.  Making sure to be a fair deal quieter, I fast walked to my usual corner where I recognized one of the sisters who usually had a kind word (and snack) for me.  She smiled at me, which I returned, and, at long last, I began my search.  The last book I’d read, the one Varric caught me with, didn’t have the material I was looking for so it was time to look for a new one.

I had a very specific book in mind.  It was unbelievably hard to find books on other worlds and realms that exist outside of Thedas, probably due to the outlandish idea.  Honestly, I was close to branding the book chase as a hopeless venture, but I was determined to find at least some plausible reason for my being here.  And, of course, I had hopes of finding some way to return home.  My life wasn’t necessarily fantastic back there but I did have people I loved as well as a better chance at a decent future; certainly better than any elf in Thedas could dream of. 

“I miss showers, too,” I distractedly muttered as I flipped through a potential book, quickly becoming lost in the pages.

That’s where Hawke found me, much later, on the floor with my knees under my chin and a book close to my face.

“Fitz, I’ve been looking everywhere.” I could hear the exasperated tone but it rang false and exaggerated so I guessed this was probably the first place he looked for me.  He had an eerie knack for finding people without breaking a sweat.

“One sec…” I mumbled, skimming the tome, looking for anything that jumps out.

He might have given me a minute or so to continue my obsession but it still ended too soon for my liking.  He snagged the book out of my hands and closed it with a sharp snap and then proceeded to stuff it randomly on a shelf.  I hissed a bit and put it back to the place I pulled it from before allowing Hawke to drag me out of the Chantry.  The sister from earlier was now by the doorway, so I waved at her on my way past.

“What’s with you and reading about weird stuff?” Hawke questioned me; he said it as if he were just poking fun but I could tell he was actually interested in the answer.

“Dunno.”

“Huh.” He sounded disappointed, but certainly didn’t look surprised by the way I shut him down.  Good.

That evening went on like any other night.  Isabela and Anders got drunk and started talking about increasingly inappropriate stuff while Merrill listened avidly, but mostly uncomprehendingly.  Fenris scowled at anything Anders said and Varric eased any tensions while throwing his own stories into the mix.  If anything was off, it was Hawke.  He acted normal, sure, but he was rather quiet tonight.  I found myself wondering after the reason though I wasn’t about to go asking.  Varric probably noticed, too.

When I decided to call it a night, Hawke was up at practically the same moment as me, saying he’d walk me home.  We bade the table goodnight and fought our way past drunks to the door.  The Hanged Man was one of the main inside jokes of Kirkwall.  Inhabitants dissed it and complained but most nights were packed so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if the owner lived lavishly in Hightown.

The nights were getting colder, not anywhere near freezing, but enough that I was reminded that back home it’d most likely be fall by now.  I tended to look up as I walked, especially when I had the safety of a companion with me.  The night sky and its stars looked the same as home.  I kicked myself for not taking an interest in astronomy when I had the chance, because then I could try to see if any of the constellations were the same here.

I should have known Hawke was watching me.  We’d known each other for near on a month now and I quickly learned that Hawke sees everything.  He makes awful jokes, laughs too loudly, and is dismissive of anything serious or potentially weighty in its profundity.  And yet, his perception for emotions and social behavior is phenomenal.  I still managed to be caught off guard by what he said to me on what I wish I could say was a brisk October night.

“You know, Fitz, someday I really would like to know why you are so sad all the time.”

His said it with a welcoming air, as if he were worried that he'd frighten me off.  Of course, I was looking straight at him now, but he was intent on watching all the alleys and corners we passed by.  He gave me a chance to say something back but I didn't even make an attempt at forming a response.  

“It comes in waves and you hide it spectacularly, don’t get me wrong, but you always seem to frown when you’re lost in thought.  And, your eyes…” This is deeper than I’d ever seen Hawke get and, despite the uncomfortable topic, I hesitated to interrupt.  I might have been a bit in awe, though I'd never tell Hawke that.  So, I just watched him as he struggled to find the right words, though he didn't seem to be in a hurry to find them. 

He glanced at me and gave me what I thought was a sad smile.

He doesn't say anything else until we're nearing the steps to the alienage.  I could feel the tension in my shoulders and legs weighing me down; the sudden and unwelcome conversation had me just about ready to run, and it was also taking quite the toll on my nerves.  I was worried he was about to say something big, something that I couldn't just hum at and then ignore.  Thankfully, Hawke must've known how I was feeling, because he did no such thing.

“I think you have a nasty tangle of thoughts in that hard head of yours.  As much as I am apt to doubt such an outlandish notion.”  

I scowled at the sudden jab, but at the same time, I was relieved as it definitely lightened the mood.  I wasn’t about to say anything about my ‘tangle of thoughts’ to anyone, let alone someone as keen as Hawke.

We were at the entrance to the alienage before I could so much as think of a response.  I felt like I should say _something_ , at least an ‘I’m okay’ or ‘Don’t worry’, you know?  But, in the end, I just muttered out a quick thanks and a goodnight.  Once again, I practically ran away and was in Merrill’s house barely thirty seconds later, feeling completely drained.

When Merrill arrived, a short time later, humming to herself as she went about her nighttime routine, I was curled up on my little cot in the corner of her living room with thoughts of home and friends plaguing my mind.

~

I truly never saw myself telling anyone about my situation.  Ever.  

Obviously, I feared what would happen if I were to talk, because no sane person would believe such a tale.  Not even Varric would.  As it is, it's just another thing I regret.  I let the impossibility of my background form a rift between me and my friends, and I let it fester for way too long, to a point where I was running around behind their backs and letting myself get into dangerous situations because I was too much of a coward to ask for help.  Because god forbid they found out anything real about me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any breaks in tense and what not!


	5. Hearteyes

Sometimes, I wish I pretended to be mute when I first met Hawke.  My life would be so much easier, and less embarrassing.

It was a typical night.  The entire table was laughing at me, and most of it was due to the highly inebriated state of nearly everyone at the stupid table.  I ignored them and directed my glare at Hawke instead.  He started it, unsurprisingly, and now the stupid peanut gallery were latching onto it.  At least Merrill was trying not to laugh, and I guess Fenris’ smirk irritated me slightly less than Isabela’s raucous laughter. 

“Oh, you beat me to it! I was going to ask that!” Isabela wiped tears from her eyes, leaning heavily on the table for support. “Red, all the way to his ears! Kitten, you really are pure, aren’t you?”

I was embarrassed more at the scene they were making than the state of my virginity.  It wasn’t high on my list of priorities, not back home and especially not here.  I tried to inflict as much dry sarcasm as I could in my next sentence, “I am as pure and innocent as a newly formed snowflake.”

I even got a snort out of Fenris with that, which made me feel better.  Unfortunately, but predictably, the conversation didn’t end there.  Isabela tried to lean even farther over the table, trying to whisper to me even though she was at the other end of the table.  “You know, darling, that girl over there has been eyeing you all night, and on previous nights as well!” She winked, her head still tipped in the direction of my supposed admirer.  I could feel myself flush again and I darted my eyes to the girl out of curiosity.  She was older than me and her hair was a pretty color, it seemed to shine in the low lighting of the tavern.  She was at a table with two other nondescript people and like our table, hers was full of laughter and drinks.  I looked back at Isabela skeptically, “Uh, are you sure? She a lot older than me…probably closer to your age.”

Isabela pulled a mock offended face at me, “Was that meant to insult me? You haven’t been practicing quips with Aveline, have you?”

I stuck my tongue out at her and then stuffed my face with the last of my bread.  Hawke immediately waved down the waitress (bar maid?) for another plate which I didn’t argue over.  Free food was free food, and always more welcome in abundance rather than starving. 

Varric, hand propping his chin up, finally deigned to comment, now that most of the attention had been diverted to other topics.  He leaned over so he could look past Hawke and make eye contact with me, “So, not even a childhood sweetheart? And I’m not talking about books you’ve read.”

I rolled my eyes, “Nope, no illicit affairs with books for me.”

“Was that intentionally vague or are you alluding to the existence of a past lover?” Varric practically pounced.  Hawke was watching intently, and with a large amount of amusement. 

I wore my patented bland look and waited a beat. “Well, this has been fun, but I literally just remembered about this thing I have to do.” I began to rise from my seat, but Hawke pulled me back down by throwing his arm about me.

“No, don’t go, Fitz. Varric was just joking around.  No need to get your knickers in a twist.” He laughed.

Merrill, who was sat at my right, injected herself into our conversation, “I think there is more to it than you’re letting on, Fitz. I bet it is a very cute story.” She sighed at the end like she was imagining me and my imaginary sweetheart doing lovey-dovey things.  All I could do was sit there, shackled to my chair because Hawke still had me in a near headlock. 

“I agree with Merrill.” Hawke chuckled.  I was then summarily shocked as Fenris added his own comment to the mix.

“Well, was it cute? She would have been the bold one, of course.”

I scowled at him, ‘You’re all stupid. And you lost Isabela.”

Varric waved a hand, “Oh, her. She is most definitely not lost. In fact, she is leading some young thing upstairs right now.” He was right.  I quickly turned my attention back to our small group lest I be scarred.

“Just give us a hint. I’ve been meaning to write a story about puppy love.” Varric cajoled.

“You won’t sell a cent with something so boring.” I sent back.

“You’d be surprised, actually. And was that another admittance?”

“No,” I immediately snapped, “why are you so convinced that I’ve been in love?”

Hawke answered for him, “Because, you are not nearly flustered enough to be completely untouched.”

“Wow, nice wording on that one.” I replied to which he immediately responded with a, “And, yet, you do not deny it. Hmm…suspicious.”

I flushed but to be honest they were breaking me down. I hadn’t thought about him in ages, it’s just easier that way, but I did have someone back home.  For the first time, I didn’t feel like crying when I thought about him.  Instead I smiled, because I couldn’t help but think about what he’d have to say about this conversation.  He would’ve blushed and told all of them to ‘fuck off’ and I probably would’ve been the one teasing him. 

At Hawke’s exclaimed, “Ah! A smile!”, I decided I’d try this sharing-bonding thing.  Hawke had been dragging me around with him more and more.  He brought me with him to visit his friend Aveline, I had never even thought about stepping into the Viscount’s Keep before that.  And he was around Merrill’s house enough times that he might as well be a regular.  And with Hawke usually came Varric.  Fenris, though, I wasn’t quite sure why he was even in this conversation still but even he was becoming a regular fixture in my life.  I could say the same for Isabela and Anders (who had left earlier that evening).

“Well, he was older than me. He taught me how to throw a punch. He was very skilled with his hands,” I was trailing off, still smiling at the thought of this guy who I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with, “He probably still works at his cousin’s car shop.”

I didn’t realize the slip until Merrill innocently asked what a car was.  I blanched and stuttered out, “I meant…carpet shop! Haha, whoops.” The others didn’t actually seem to notice or care all that much about my slip up (though, why would they? It’s not like I showed them a picture.  That would’ve really got their attention). 

Fenris wasn’t looking at me.  Varric was grinning and just nodded, “Sounds nice, kid”, before he said his goodnights.  Merrill had a hand to her heart and was looking at me like she might cry.

“Oh, Fitz! Your face. I’ve never seen you look like that.”

I blushed and shrugged.  Then, I sneaked a peek at Hawke.  I was starting to feel embarrassed about sharing, and _feelings_ , but he didn’t look like he was about to tease me.  He had this soft smile on his face, one he doesn’t usually wear; it usually ranges from cheeky to manic.  He ruffled my hair, “That was sweet, Fitz.”

I actually felt better after sharing.  Maybe it was because I hadn’t let myself dwell too much on him, it hurt to even think his name, but talking about him, even just a few short sentences, made my heart feel just a little bit lighter.  Like I was admitting that I hadn’t forgotten him; reaffirming his sheer significance to me as if he would somehow know how much I still love him even though it’s been so long.

 Maybe, somehow, he does.


	6. Fight Scene

Sometimes I forgot that I was a hormonal teenager.  It must have been due to the fact that I’ve had a lot of growing up to do ever since I appeared in Thedas.  I didn’t have family, or friends at the start, to rely on and it had certainly been shell-shocking when, so suddenly, I had to be self-sufficient; it would have been better if it had at least been in my own world that I had been tossed about in.  Nevertheless, I may have shed much of what signifies a teenager back home, but definitely not all of it.

Such as boiling rage that would hit me like a sucker punch, which, ultimately, made me feel like punching something. 

I was in the Hanged Man, talking to some asshole at the bar, while Hawke and co were loudly congregated at their usual table.  I had maneuvered it so that my back was to them, because I knew one of them (probably Varric) would keep at least one third of their attention on me out of habit.  I had my arms crossed over my chest in an attempt to hide the fact that my hands were shaking with anger.

“You _what_?” I practically hissed, eyeing the brute in front of me.

His name was Weller and I met him through Athenril.  We didn’t exactly work together, because I was only ever on simple, non-important missions, but I’d delivered to him many times and sometimes he gave me extra jobs (usually when he was too lazy to report to Athenril or to tell a client the job was done).  Of course, I didn’t trust him but I thought he was okay if a bit of a wanker.  I definitely didn’t think he’d screw me over like he did.  As it was, he was looking at me with not a little bit of amusement and he grinned into his mug of ale, “What’s a matter, kid?  Aw shit, was it important to you?”

He didn’t say the last bit apologetically, if anything his grin grew larger and I wanted to knock his teeth out.  I tried to count my breathing before speaking again.

“I fuckin’ paid you to give it to _me_ not some fucking merchant from Antiva,”

He took a big swig of his drink, pretty much making a show of it, before finally replying, “Yeah and that fucking merchant gave me more money than you ever could.  Just business, kid.  You should get used to it,” If he had stopped there I might’ve been okay but he didn’t.  He got in my face, rank breath making my lip curl, but what was worse was the condescension adorning his ugly mug as he put a mocking hand on my shoulder before he hit the proverbial last straw. 

“You’re just some elven brat trying to scrape together a few extra coins…you gotta remember you ain’t worth shit to me and I don’t owe you a fucking thing, yeah? So why don’t you crawl back home to your whore of a mot–”.

I lost it.  I had been seeing red since he started poking me in the shoulder, roughly, to emphasize his words.  You know when you get so angry, the edges of your mind get fogged over until all your focus is on whatever sorry fuck caused the anger in the first place?  That was the kind of rage I was feeling; my body felt like it was coiled so tight I could snap at any moment, which, haha, I did.

During his eloquent tirade against my small, elven person, memories from a long time ago were resurfacing in my state of mind.  I have mentioned, earlier on in this memoir of sorts, that my introduction to Darktown was not the first time I’d received a very thorough beating.  

Back in middle school I had problems with some kids in the grade above mine.  We lived on the same street which made walking home from school an experience much like what I imagined track practice to be like.  At first, they’d catch up to me seven times out of ten and I’d get kicked around.  Of course, it felt like getting the shit beat out of me back then, but they eventually tired of pushing me into walls and punching me in the gut.  It wasn’t until freshman year of high school that I got the actual tar kicked out of me; black eye, busted lip, and all that jazz.

And, boy, was it cliché.  I had joined my school’s unofficial art club (the only other one was called the Art Honor Society, like with requirements and shit, and being the punk I am, I didn’t even entertain the thought of joining) and so I stayed after school most days of the week.  Those same guys who gave me hell in middle school obviously found this out and actually waited for me one day by the fucking bike racks of all places.  So there I was, walking without looking up because I was so focused on scraping paint from the insides of my nails, not a care in the world, right?  I didn’t even notice when I was next to the bikes until I was jumped, and nearly got a face full of some poor kid’s bike tire as a result of it. 

I won’t go into details, partially because I think I was actually a bit traumatized by it (the two guys were fucking huge compared to my scrawny self) but eventually someone saw and started yelling.  Next thing I know, some older guy was peeling me off of the cement.  I recognized him, too, because he lived near me and when we were younger we used to play together with a bunch of other kids from our street (bullies who just beat me not included).  Funnily enough, my brutal beat-down led to the rekindling of an old childhood friendship, even though the guy was a senior and completely too cool for me.

He helped me get to our street, but he told me to come to his house so he could patch me up.  I remember he told me about how he used to get into tons of fights just for fun, making me ask if he was in a fight club or something.  He laughed as he gave me a bag of frozen peas for my eye, also instructing me to firmly hold the bag in place.  He had to keep repeating that bit, because my arm would get tired and I’d let it fall somewhat. 

I had scrapes on both my knees and a cut on my bottom lip.  I remember being embarrassed as he meticulously attended to my wounds; cleaning and carefully applying band-aids to both my knees before getting super close to my face and cleaning my lip.  I was beet red and he made fun of me with some teasing comment that I can’t recall anymore.  I was sitting on his kitchen counter and he leaned on the counter opposite me when he was done.  I don’t remember exactly what we talked about anymore but I think we reminisced a little about the good old days, when we were kids and shit.  I definitely remember when I asked him to teach me to fight. 

I explained to him about middle school and how I could never keep my mouth shut.  So, obviously, the only solution was for me to learn how to hit back.  It didn’t even take convincing, he started teaching me how to punch that day or that may have just been the days of the past blurring together. 

Every day I spend in Thedas makes back home seem like a long, convoluted dream.  That’s why I’m writing this little story down.  This isn’t something I want to forget.

His name was Scott and he was probably my best friend out of anybody back home.  He taught me how to fight, took me to the gym with him, even took me to prom with him though we ditched out after about half an hour.  I want to say he’s still back there, living on the same street we grew up on, and working at the garage his cousin owned a few blocks away, but it’s not like I can know that for sure anymore.

But, I wasn't home.  I was in Kirkwall, surrounded by a bunch of drunks who probably didn't know what soap was, and it wasn't a bully from high school standing in front of me, but some guy twice my age (and nearly twice my size).  

I took a step away from this asshole who thought I was lower than dirt and I thought of how much Scott would curse at me for drawing my fist back and jumping up in the air a little so I got a better aim at the bastard’s face.  And as my fist, in perfect form and my arm angled just right, collided with this dick’s jaw, I knew Scott would’ve stepped in to fight with me.  He'd say it's just so he wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces on the off chance I tried to fight the wrong person (which, let’s be real, was more often than not), but I knew he also just liked hitting asshole. 

Instead, I was on my own.  I took advantage of Weller’s shock and tackled him to the ground.  Predictably, he was quick to recover but I still got in at least two good shots before he was able to maneuver his arms to hit back.  His sloppy punch hit me on the temple, right near my ear, and the next one caught me right on my cheekbone.  Both hurt significantly, but I was still seeing red so pain didn't really matter at the moment.  I just wanted to punch this guy until I literally couldn’t move my arms anymore.  My breaths were coming out hard and fast and my fist connected with his nose just as he was able to dislodge me from my position over him.  My back hit the wall of the bar, shoving a stool a few paces away but not overturning it, and when I got my bearings back, I was met with the sight of Weller clutching his nose, glaring at me, and attempting to stand. 

Knowing I’d get kicked if I didn’t get up quickly, I scrabbled my way up until I was leaning with one elbow on the bar, at which point I registered the din around me.  The barkeep was frantically trying to call us off and as I was coming down from my rage high I vaguely wondered when Hawke would cut in. 

I shoved myself sideways off the bar and towards Weller, who was significantly more composed at this point and also coming at me with both his arms raised.  I rammed my elbow into his gut as he grabbed my hair and yanked, only tugging harder when I winded him.  He was cursing me, probably had been since I started this fight, and he was gaining the upper hand; he was trying to push me to the wall so he could, supposedly, pummel me properly.  As a last ditch I brought my head forward quickly and was rewarded with stabbing pain as the top of my head connected with his chin.  He yowled, probably bit his lip or tongue too, and let go of my hair.

It was at this point that Hawke intervened.  The fight sounds long written down but in reality all of this had gone down in a minute or two at best.  Hawke probably had to fight just to break through the crowd of entertained drunks that had swarmed to watch the skinny elf take on the big human twice his age. 

“Alright, alright.  Fight’s over.  All of you can go back to drinking yourselves to a stupor.”  Hawke had grabbed the collar of Weller’s coat and, when he was done addressing the crowd, he pretty much threw the asshole to the side.  “Why don’t you go get lost somewhere, hmm?”

The look on Hawke’s face must have been chilling because Weller paled and immediately fled the tavern without so much as spitting in my general direction.  The bastard had to know about Hawke’s invincible reputation; a reputation that _everybody_ knew about.

I tasted blood and from the ache in my nose, I assumed the hit to my cheekbone must have overlapped to an impact on my nose as well.  Still eyeing Hawke, I touched my upper lip and felt the trail of blood that was trickling from my nose.  It wasn’t gushing and my nose wasn’t broken so I left it alone to focus on Hawke who was advancing on me now.  The frown and uncharacteristically serious look on his face made my stomach turn, but I'm not sure if that was out of embarrassment or guilt.  In any case, I didn't complain when he put his hands on my face, even though I'd rather he didn't.  Hawke tilted my head up and had begun cataloging my wounds when Anders approached.

Anders was frowning as well and looked ready to push Hawke aside, but Hawke didn’t give him the chance by saying, “He’s fine, Anders.  Couple of bruises and a bloody nose.  I’m taking him home.”  When Anders looked ready to argue, Hawke gave him a look I couldn’t make out.

They obviously came to an agreement because Anders gave a curt nod, directed a surprisingly stern look at me, and returned to the table where I could make out a hovering Merrill who was being held back by Isabela, who, I think, gave me a thumbs up.  I almost grinned at that, and it reminded me to be thankful that Aveline wasn’t there to put me in a cell for the night (which had happened to Isabela one hilarious time).  I barely got that thought out before I was being hauled from the Hanged Man in the strong grip of a still frowning Hawke, who I suspected was very displeased with me at that moment.  I went along without protest because while I’ll admit to being stupid sometimes, I knew damn well when to stay quiet.

~

It was a long, silent walk through Lowtown that night and I berated myself the entire way for losing control back there.  Not only did I start a fight in front of my friends over something I never planned on telling them about, I also started a fight with a man who worked for the same smuggling ring as me and whom I’m sure was no stranger to shanking opponents in a fight.  Or after a fight.

I was also unsettled by the anger that fueled me to start that dumb fight to begin with.  I hadn’t felt fury quite like that in such a long time.  Over the year since my unceremonious exile from Earth, I was jaded and just a few steps above apathetic to most things that made me unhappy, but anger had slowly been making its way into my emotional spectrum. 

I tried to tell myself that I could get it back, I could buy the book from that Antivan guy, and everything would be fine.  I just had no clue who the man was or what he looked like, but it wouldn’t be that hard to ask around.

I was so involved in my own drama I didn’t realize Hawke was taking me to his house, or that he hadn’t spoken this entire time.  

“Uh, why’re we–”.

“Wouldn’t want to mess up sweet Merrill’s home.  We’ll get you cleaned up here.  S’not like the place would look different with a few more blood splats,” Hawke’s tone was amicable enough but I was still anticipating a talking to.  Hawke didn’t _do_ silence and he hadn’t talked the entire way from the Hanged Man to his uncle’s house.  Not normal.

I refrained from saying anything else and just let Hawke direct me around the house.  I hadn’t been in Hawke’s house before.  I knew he didn’t view it as home and it certainly didn’t have a personable touch, though I guess I could sort of see where his mother had attempted to brighten the place up.  A rug here, some curtains there.  Still, I couldn't help but notice that it wasn't much better than many of the places I'd seen in the alienage.  

Hawke sat me on one of the chairs in front of the fire place and I stayed there awkwardly as he rifled around the room.  I peered over to where he was standing, hunched over one of the tables across the room, nearer to the front door.  He was holding a flask and it was too dark to make out much else.  When he returned he quietly explained that his mother was sleeping so we would have to be quiet, which I readily nodded at. 

I promptly flushed when he got down on one knee and began gently wiping blood away from my face.  I still didn’t say anything and he didn’t even comment on my red face though he must’ve noticed. 

He was gentle, and I don’t know why this surprised me so much.  It may have to do with the quiet, dim atmosphere of the run down room we were in, or it might also be because this was the first time I had ever been in a room alone with him in all the considerable months of knowing and becoming friends with him.  As Hawke spread some kind of salve over my cheek, which I suspected would have no effect on me, I was attacked by memories of Scott and a situation so much like this one that my breath caught in my throat.

I studied Hawke in the glow of the fire that outlined him.  His eyes, narrowing in focus on his task, were really bright and yet pale at the same time.  I stared for too long, trying to remember the color of Scott's eyes, and pretty soon those eyes were looking right into my own.  That was when Hawke finally decided to speak.

“You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

I didn’t.

He pressed on my ribs, testing, and after a few presses, he was satisfied that they were unhurt.  I could feel him looking at me, but this time I stared past him, focusing instead on the weird fireplace over his shoulder.  It never would have passed a safety inspection back home, and it looked more like a campfire than anything suitable for inside a freaking house.

I nearly jumped as a light touch to my temple forced me to stop distracting myself.  Fingers brushed across the base of my ear and down, stopping to rest on my neck.  I flushed again, and had no choice but to return my gaze to Hawke, even though the serious look on his face made me uncomfortable.

We both sat there, just staring.  I broke first, my eyes darted to the wall on my left and then to the floor like a nervous tic.

“Fitz,” his voice was low but still firm, “I will not make you tell me but you should know that I will not be fooled.  If I have to wait to hear the story from Varric, once he is finished interrogating Weller,” I twitched involuntarily, “then so be it.”

I stayed silent and watched the flames flicker.  I could feel him watching my face for any emotion and I knew he’d find something even if I wore a good mask.  For such a comical guy, Hawke was surprisingly perceptive in these matters.  And he wasn’t done talking.  He gave me a moment more to ignore him before he broke the silence again,

“You have your secrets,” I felt my heartbeat speed up and I wished desperately for someplace to hide.  I should have known he’d be blunt, “and I understand.  I am content to let you keep them,” I finally looked him in the eyes and he seized on this, giving me an unyielding stare, “However, if they prove dangerous, it would be better for you to tell me.  For your own good.”

“Dangerous?” I parroted back weakly and attempted to lighten the mood with a faint grin.  “Exactly who do you think I am?”

He didn’t smile.  If anything, his stare only got harder.

“You and I both know you’re different.  The things you say and do…” He looked as if he was struggling for the right words, “It's weird.  You say things that don’t make sense and then brush off requests for explanation.  And then there’s the running around.  You run around this bloody city more than I do and you know how much _I_ get around.”  I watched with dread as his face twisted in frustration.  “It doesn’t make sense.  No one knows where you are half the time or what you’re even doing,”

“I work.  You know I work for Ath–”

“Not nearly enough to account for all the times you’re missing!”  Oh great, he started glaring at me.  “We don’t pry, to each their own.  But, you’ve been acting shifty for a while now.  Even Fenris has commented on it!”  Hawke finally stood up.  He turned away from me, looking into the fire as I’d been doing since he first sat me down in here.

I struggled to find something to say.  I wanted to comfort him, convince him that I was alright.  It was something I never thought I’d find myself wanting to do, but there I was.  I swallowed the self-hatred I felt over the fact that I was overly invested in my friendships here despite the restrictions I had placed.  I should’ve known it’d be practically impossible to keep these people at arm’s length.  Especially Hawke, who basically exuded loyalty.  No matter how much he complained about it, the man would rather risk himself for the sake of not only his friends, but also for the sake of every innocent person he’d ever come across his entire life.

And he included me into his self-made family of misfits, probably even before the confrontation.  I won’t lie, I was in awe over this idea.  As I sat there in the dim, decrepit house that he hated so much, watching him stare into the flickering flames of the shabby fireplace, I finally realized what my problem was with this man.

Hawke was my second Scott.  He was the Scott I never asked for; the one I refused to like because I had never been ready to let go of the old one.  Hawke embodied all the traits of the guy who had taken me under his wing when I was a messed up fourteen year old kid.  Only, Hawke got a seriously more fucked up, seventeen year old version. 

I never thought it would ever be romantic, like it had been with Scott.  And it wasn't, at least not during the years we lived in Kirkwall.  When we first met, Hawke had only just recently lost his sister, his only remaining sibling, to the Deep Roads.  I think part of the reason he became so interested in me was because I somehow reminded him of his lost siblings.  Or maybe he just saw some stupid, punk kid that needed protection and guidance but was too fucking stupid to admit it and he just figured, 'shit, what difference would it make to add yet another misfit to my clique?'.  He probably wouldn’t refer to his gang as a clique, but I like the terminology.  In any case, I wasn't prepared to fall so hard and fast into a friendship with this guy.  I think I could tell that our bond was special, even at the start.  It certainly stuck with me forever, even during the bad years to come.

“You’re right,” I said it too softly, but he heard anyway.  “There’s a lot I don’t…I can’t talk about.  Uh…” I  floundered.  I had literally no clue how to string together a sentence to convey how I’m feeling and, once again, I was struck with frustration over it.

Hawke didn’t say anything.  The only acknowledgment I got was a slight turn of his head, and I could tell he was going to make me finish this on my own.

“I’m not…doin' bad things,” I cringed at how lame that sounded, but continued anyways, “I really am just, uh, tryin' to earn money.  I want to be able buy stuff...for me, you know?  And I wanna help Merrill out ‘cuz she houses me and is always feedin' me and stuff,” Hawke was finally facing me again and I stood up, hand rubbing the back of my neck as I fought for sincerity.

I tried my hardest to look him in the eyes.  “My secrets don't matter, alright?  Not, uh, life or death, but I swear to G–,” I stumbled, “I swear they aren’t dangerous.  And if I were, like, in trouble or somethin', I would…tell you.  Probably ask you for help.”  Relief flooded through my body when I caught his small smile at that.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to be, uh, shifty.  I’m not used to being…” I was lost for words _again_ , and I had to breath through my nose just to stay calm.  “Like, in a family?  Shit, you know.”  My voice trailed off feebly over the word 'family', and I regretted saying it almost immediately because of how embarrassing it sounded.  I wished I could have said more, something better, but it was the best I could do.  I think Hawke could tell because his smile looked deeper somehow, like it reached his eyes or something.  He believed me.

I let out a breath.  I felt like I’d accomplished something, but I also felt condemned at the very same time  


 


	7. The Docks

I don’t typically hang around the docks, outside of delivering shit.  And usually that’s a quick run through and run back out.  At least Darktown was, well, dark.  The Docks always felt too open, although the sailors were probably the worst part of the whole place.  Anyways, on this particular day I was waiting around for someone; someone who hopefully had the much desired answers for my very important questions. 

I loitered in what I hoped was a menacing enough manner to blend in and stave off unwanted confrontation while I kept an eye out for my guy.  Luckily, my hair had grown so long that it hid my ears pretty well, unless you looked really closely.  Nowadays it was harder to pin me as an elf thanks to the hair and my growth spurt.  It was nice when I was trying to blend, because, it seemed like so long as an elf was present, they would be harassed before any human.  However, it certainly got me confused looks from people who knew me from my daily errands. They’d get thrown by the general non-elfiness of me, but usually I’d just tuck some hair away to show off the ears and, without fault, humans would zone in on that and would be almost immediately reassured like, ‘ _yeh, still a knife-ear just taller’_.

I caught sight of my guy coming out of the building that I knew only because it was near an old underground passageway.  He was heading towards a group of people huddled not to far away from where I was standing which forced me to hurry so that I could cut him off.  I so didn’t want an audience for this.

He saw me, obviously coming his way since we made eye contact and everything.  He kindly stopped for me and only looked a little suspicious.

As soon as I got closer I blurted out, “You Hugh?”

He folded his arms, which wow that was kind of intimidating because his arms were humungous. 

“Who’s askin’?”

I tried not to make a face at the cliché answer as I replied, “No one.  Just a nobody.  A nobody who heard you helped a certain Antivan merchant get out of the city?”

I ended my last sentence on a high note to make myself seem more unassuming and harmless, normally better for getting answers in my experience (I was also hoping this man wasn’t a bad guy).  He remained with his arms crossed and just stared at me, totally deadpan, without saying anything back.

I blanched.  Not even a little ‘ _get lost kid’_ or walking away; he just stared me down.

“Uh…heh, see I was just wondering ‘cuz, um, he has this…thing I was gonna buy from him but when I went lookin’ for him he was nowhere to be found and I heard–”

He leveled me with an even sterner stare as he interrupted my rambling, “Alright, listen up, kid, I don’t give a rat’s ass what your reasons are.  I don’t give up information without a little incentive, if you know what I mean.”

Again, I tried not to make a face.  I hoped he meant money because that’s where I was going with this.

“Uhh, I’ve got like…” I made a show of digging around in my pockets and pulling up a few loose coins. “5 coppers?”

He looked so unimpressed it almost hurt.  He didn’t move to take my coins.

“Aw, come on.  Please.  It’s all I got.”  Frustrated, I accidentally ran my free hand through my hair, showing off my nice ears.  Predictably, Hugh zeroed in on them immediately.

“What’s a knife-ear askin’ around for a trinket merchant?”  The guy snorted and shouldered past me.  “Don’t waste my fuckin’ time.”

I watched him go and let slip what I thought was a quiet, “Aw, motherfucker.”

The man spun around so quickly, my eyes instantly widened.  He began to advance angrily back to me while I hastily tried to back away, waving my hands.

“I meant it as an ‘aw there goes my only chance’ kinda way!  Totally wasn’t calling _you_ a motherfucker!  I swear!”  I swear to god, I don’t know how I’ve survived this long.

“Get the fuck outta here, you knife-eared bastard,” the guy snarled.  He wasn’t lifting his fists or anything, although his friends were going absolutely wild in the background.  Probably trying to get him to beat up the stupid elf.

“Yeah, man!  I’m out!”

I wasted no time in turning tail and bailing.  I made it to the nearest steps and practically flew up them, two at a time.  I’d just taken maybe a few more running steps, not really watching my surroundings, when I was suddenly pulled back, though not in a throw-down sort of way. 

“And just what are you running away from?”

I stopped trying to get away when I realized I actually recognized my captor’s voice.

“Hawke!”

Now that I’d stopped flailing, the man let me go and then proceeded to put his hands on his hips like a scolding mother.  I raised my eyebrows, silently asking, _‘are you serious?’_

Apparently he was.  “Are you picking fights with dock workers now?  Because I’m pretty sure I heard you calling someone a ‘motherfucker’.”  He gave me another significant look, ignoring what was clearly a snort from Varric.

“No!  I was trying to explain that it wasn’t _him_ I was calling a ‘motherfucker’, but the circumstance!  But, he didn't get it,” I practically whined back at him.  Varric didn’t even try to hide a laugh this time around and, when I finally looked past Hawke, I could see Isabela and Anders also looking quite amused at my predicament.

“Really, darling, if you’re going to pull out words like that, you simply _must_ mean them,” Isabela put in, her grin nearly taking up her entire face.  “Which also means you should be prepared for a fight to ensue.”

I finally got to make a face without fear as I answered her, “I’m sayin’ it wasn’t like that.  At all.  Not at all.”

Next thing I knew, I was being hugged by a pirate who was petting my hair at the same time.  I basically sputtered while the other three laughed at me.

“Oh, dear!  Your accent is ever so fascinating!  It always becomes more pronounced when you’re all flustered,” Isabela cooed, and she stopped petting my hair only to grab my face instead.

“Agh!  Stop!”

It took a minute but I managed to escape (largely due to a well-placed quip from Anders which Isabela couldn’t resist engaging).  I stepped back and wiped my face with the inside of my shirt, eyeing the others warily.  Hawke’s grin was still laughing and I had to scowl at him.

Varric had to ruin everything by asking, “So, what were you doing all the way out here in the first place?”  He raised an eyebrow at me.  “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for someone, would you? Like say, an Antivan someone?”

I gaped at him.  I almost asked how he knew but then I remembered it was Varric I was talking to.  He always knew everything.

I only hesitated a moment before deciding to go with it, “I was.  Do _you_ know where he went?”

“Back in Antiva by now, I’d wager.”

I wanted to curse so badly, but wasn’t given the chance.

“Why do you want to find this book so badly?” Hawke asked this time.

I glanced his way, but his expression only carried a careful amount of interest.  Figures Varric got the story out of Weller, that asshole, and it only made perfect sense that Varric would clue Hawke in.  Still, I shifted my weight onto my other leg as I tried to think of a response.  Isabela seemed content on ignoring the proceedings, keeping Anders focused on herself and their conversation which left me with an audience of only two. 

“I just want it.”

Hawke gave me an incredibly unimpressed look, which was practically mirrored to a T on Varric’s face.  I sent an insolent look back their way and folded my arms for good measure, taking a leaf out of my good old pal Hugh’s book.

I watched them exchange looks.  Only instead of looking back at me, they proceeded to hold a silent conversation with each other which I’d admit to being slightly impressed by, and sort of jealous.

Finally, Varric turned back to me and said, “Come on, Scholar.  Let’s take a walk.”

I stayed where I was in confusion, only moving to jerk my head away when Hawke roughly messed up my hair as he walked past me.  Isabela and Anders passed by with a wink and raised eyebrows respectively.  I watched them go before turning back to Varric only to see him a few feet away and waving at me to follow, all casual like.

Feeling rather harried, I decided to just follow him, partly because I really wanted to know what he had to say, despite my being slightly nervous about the potential topic. 

Varric walked at a leisurely pace and seemed more intent on people-watching than actually talking to me.  I could feel my awkwardness levels rising as I haltingly tried to match his slow pace with my much longer legs.  When he finally spoke I nearly tripped.

“So, I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been dying to ask. Was that your first tavern brawl?”  He glanced my way with that ever persistent twinkle in his eye.  “I have to say, you had me impressed. Especially since you came out of it relatively unharmed, of course.”  He grinned at me and for some reason I automatically felt more at ease.  I could feel the tension that had risen from the prospect of a one-on-one conversation drain away in light of Varric’s playful commentary and down to earth nature.

“Though, Hawke just about had a conniption when we realized it was _you_ in that fight.  And starting it no less," he continued.  Varric was still all grins and I didn’t sense any sort of judgment from him.  I became conscious of the fact that we were most likely headed for the Hanged Man as Varric pointed out little bits of the goings-on around us.  Like how that man in blue was hungover and, from his mannerism, probably in trouble of some sort (presumably debt).  Or how the woman selling oysters hadn’t eaten all day and had at least three kids to look after.  Not everything he pointed out was morbid, though many were which wasn’t very surprising just on account of where we were.  Varric had an answer for everything and I honestly envied his confidence and knowledge.  He saw things I never would’ve noticed on my own.  He gave me some tips on what to always keep an eye out for and how to divide one’s attention, all of which I happily absorbed.

Varric made the trip from the docks feel like no time at all.  Before I knew it, we were entering the Hanged Man.  He went straight for the staircase and I followed him without hesitation though I was starting to feel my nerves again.  When we made it to his room, he gestured me through the door with yet another smile.

He didn’t bother to close the door behind me, probably because he was headed for the table in the middle of the room.  I watched as he moved some stuff around for a few seconds before unearthing whatever he’d been looking for.  Varric presented it to me and, for a good long moment, I just stared.

I had no idea how he found the name of the book I’d been looking for or, better yet, where he found the book.  It was supposed to be a rare tome that one only finds once in their lifetime, and it was supposed to be with some Antivan guy, not in Varric's outstretched hands.

“Varric…how did you…”

When I looked into his eyes, they were kind and he was giving me a soft smile as he held out the book, trying to press it into my hands.  I caught hold of it out of instinct, but I was still so confused.

“Weller still had the note you’d given him.  With the name of this tome on it," Varric explained loftily.  "I called in some people, it’s really no big deal.”  He waved his hand dismissively as if to emphasize his point.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Hawke put him up to it, but either way I knew Varric was happy to do it.  He wouldn't be so nice about it if he wasn't.

I stared at the book, or tome, I guess, and tried to think of something to say. 

“Thanks, Varric…You really have no idea how much this means to me.  I–”

Varric waved his hand again, “No need to thank me, Scholar.”  

He gave me another grin, and continued, “I just want to say, you _can_ ask for help sometimes.  Anytime, in fact.  One of us will always be willing to give you a hand."  He was trying to catch my eye.  "You know that, right?”

I glanced back at him briefly.  He was trying to keep the mood light but I could still see the small part of him that worried for me; the part that cared about me and what happened to me.  I flushed slightly as I recalled the way Hawke looked at me when I called him family, and it was pretty much the same way Varric was looking at me now. 

I was still awed, and confused, by the idea that there was this group of people who all cared about me to some degree.  It felt weird to be a part of anybody’s life like that; it was something I’d only really had with a handful of people in my lifetime.  And then, when I got landed here, I lost all of that.  For what felt like a really long time, and I guess it just felt weird to have people at my side again.

I felt so touched and honored that my secret felt irrelevant, weak, like I could almost forget about trying to get home and just enjoy life with this gang.  I brushed my fingers across the embossed letters on the cover and tried to convey all my feelings into a soft, “Thank you.”

I think he understood.


	8. Day Trip

“No, no. It’s faster. And like, harder than that.” Sovin just gave me an uncertain look and my frustration grew, more at myself for my inability to explain eloquently.  In all honesty, I was attempting a very stupid endeavor but boredom and homesickness was hitting me really hard at the moment.  I missed all the different kinds of music that used to be incorporated in every aspect of my life.  At the store, in a park, in a restaurant, at school.  At this point I’d kill to hear elevator music if it meant I heard something that didn’t sound like a lute.  Unfortunately, my impromptu music discussion, consisting of an uncomprehending Sovin and me.  Garrus only lasted a minute before he started laughing and left us.

 “Ah, forget about it. I’m havin’ trouble explainin’…I probably have to get goin’ anyways.” Sovin patted my shoulder consolingly, already turning to join Garrus.  My face heated up a little bit as I realized I probably kept him from doing better things than listening to me explain rock music. 

I was just turning to head back to Merrill’s when I saw Hawke bounding his way down the alienage steps, already waving at me.  I met him halfway, curious because he seemed to be looking specifically for me this time.  I hadn’t seen much of him lately since he’d just moved into his new house in Hightown and had a lot to do in order to make it livable again.

“I already ate so no Hanged Man for me tonight,” I began to tell him but he cut me off, slapping my shoulder in lieu of greeting.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s not what I’m here for. It’s rather last minute but I’m heading out to Sundermount tomorrow morning.  Very exciting business.” He made eyebrow expressions at me and wore a rather large smirk.  My brow furrows and I immediately worry he meant to ask me a huge favor, like doing his laundry or something.  He went on before I could make up an excuse, “Ugh. How dull, you were supposed to jump up and down and beg me to bring you with me.”

Okay, so I might have expressed some interest in the areas surrounding the city.  Nobody had been very shocked to learn that I hadn’t really explored a whole lot outside of the city itself, I’m pretty sure they all thought I was a Ferelden refugee and most Fereldens tended to stay within the confines of the city.  Needless to say I wasn’t exactly keen on leaving the city by myself; I’d never even been camping.

Regardless, this was a chance of the lifetime.  No one was safer to travel with than Hawke; his reputation for crushing it in fights was basically dinner-time talk by now.  I just never thought he’d take me along on one of his missions.  They always seemed dangerous…

“Really? No joke?” I asked, only slightly skeptical.

“Would I joke abou–” He stops and made a show of considering something, “Actually, disregard that.  Of course I’m not joking.  You want to see something other than these dank city walls, elf boy?  Then stop dithering and say you’ll come along.” He was trying to blind me with a huge, toothy grin and he looked so confident in my agreement that the little spite creature that lies within my body was tempted to start an argument.  I smothered the little jerk and quickly gave Hawke a ‘yeah, duh, I’ll be there’.

I squinted at him, watching as he congratulates himself on his good deed, and asked, “Who’s all gonna be goin’?”

“Oh, just Varric, Anders, and Fenris. Why?  Is there someone else you’d rather come along?  Like Isabela?” He did that eyebrow thing again and I credited myself for only blushing mildly. 

“Shouldn’t you be the one wanting Isabela there?” Before he can try to turn it around on me again, I talked faster, “And why would you ever bring both Anders and Fenris?  Like, together.” That’s just asking for nonstop bickering.

Hawke just laughed.  Like always.

~

Merrill, bless her, put together my pack and even made sure I was up on time.  This time, I woke up with only the minimal amount of groaning and was out the door after scarfing down a quick breakfast.  Merrill, who spends most of her time now working on the creepy mirror that sits next to her bed, was thoroughly engaged in her studies and probably didn’t hear my goodbye. 

I typically try not to think about the mirror.  From what Merrill told me, it’s a major piece of history and its restoration is super important to her.  But, mostly, all I knew was that nobody really approves of what Merrill is doing.  No one really talks about blood magic out loud and I’d never really found a proper time to ask about it, nor do I really _want_ to know more about it.  Overall, the thought of it makes me uncomfortable, just like the mirror itself.

I met everyone at city gates, passing yawning vendors setting up their stalls along the way.  I had to pass by a small troupe of Templars which is always really awkward, mage or not.  There’s something about them that automatically makes me nervous, like they’ll sniff out the fact that I’m not meant to be here or that there is some sort of magic clinging to me leftover from my transfer into Thedas.  My thoughts were that magic must have been the cause of all this.  It would explain a lot about my first few days in Kirkwall’s underground at the very least. 

Fenris and Varric weren’t the least bit surprised to see me and Varric looked happy to see me which I still wasn’t used to seeing on people’s faces in relation to seeing me.

“Are you sure this is a smart idea, Hawke?  This trip could easily turn dangerous…especially for one so young.” Of course Fenris didn’t want me to come along.  I supposed I should look at it as if he was actually concerned over my well-being but I couldn’t help but hear a blatant insult in his words.  I made a face in his general direction, making sure he knew it was for him.  He just looked at me all deadpan with his arms crossed.

“Oh, lighten up, Fenris.  There will be four adults present.  That should be just enough babysitters for this one.” Hawke joked, ruffling my hair while he was at it since I had decided to stand next to him.  It was stupid of me, and I should've known better by now.

“Ugh, whatever, old man.” I pushed his arm away and took a few steps to my right.  He just grinned.

“Bianca’s got your back, kid.” Varric’s voice was light and I wondered if he could sense the butterflies in my stomach at the thought of leaving the city. “Though, you really should learn some defense work.  I think daggers would suit you quite well.” 

Now he was looking at me with an appraising gaze.  I wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea of learning a weapon but it would definitely be weird.  I could tell Hawke was also thinking over Varric’s proposal and, honestly, the thought of ever having to spar with him scared me half to death.  Or even worse, with Isabela.  She'd fucking slaughter me.

Anders finally showed up after we had been loitering near the gates for a good few minutes, throwing apologies and looking quite haggard.  

“Were you asleep or did you just rise from the dead, Anders?” Hawke teased good-naturedly.

“Yes, very funny.  I’m sure you’re just jealous you can’t wake up looking this good,” Anders replied, not even missing a beat. 

“It’s true.  No one pulls off the undead look quite like you, buddy," Hawke gestured with his arms melodramatically as he spoke, and Anders let out a small laugh.  Probably at how lame Hawke was being.

“Shall we be leaving today?” Fenris put in.

“No worries, Broody.  The mountain isn’t going anywhere.” Varric said in a consoling manner.  Fenris just gave him a little stare but we were already moving before Varric even ended his sentence.  

Throughout our trek up the mountain, I was overjoyed by the mere sight of pure nature and rows of trees.  I’m a city kid through and through so I guess the novelty of nature just never really wore off after the handful of times that’d I’d spent in it.  I could tell that the others were amused by my reactions, but seriously, it’s not like they can judge; they pretty much leave the city whenever. 

Hawke took delight in telling me all about the Bone Pit, but from the looks of the others, I’m could only guess that it’s not a place I want to ever visit.  Hawke also told me about his past dealings with the Dalish and I immediately latched onto the topic when he happened to mention Feynriel.  I had heard whispers of this kid ever since I arrived in the alienage but could never learn much about him.  Apparently he was living with the Dalish, learning to control his magic.  By the end of the story, I felt like I could relate to this poor kid on many levels, though I certainly had no plans on ever saying such a thing out loud.

We have both been: on the run, trying to live under the radar, and ultimately ended up living amongst a bunch of foreigners who aren’t all that into accepting outsiders.  Especially ones of the human nature.  It’s pretty funny, I mean, this kid actually had elf blood and then there’s me, completely void of elf blood, and I’m considered a pureblood elf because humans don’t have long ears in this world.  It’s all horribly ridiculous.

Trekking up a mountain brings back memories from a vacation my dad and I took a couple of years ago.  We had taken a trip down south to the Smokies and while neither of us could handle much hiking, it was an experience just being surrounded by so much nature.  I wished bitterly for a camera as I dawdled, looking at some weird looking plants.

“Keep pace or you’ll be left behind.”

I jumped at the too close voice, which was distinctly lacking in humor.  I turned to see Fenris walking away and scowled at his back.  He did have a point though, I was starting to lag behind the others.  Not that I believed for a second that they’d actually leave me, not with the way Hawke kept looking my way every few minutes.  Ah, and now he’s waving for me to catch up.

I did a little half jog thing until I reached Anders.  He eyed me weirdly and then completely startled me with a sudden question.

“So, I take it nature is all a bit new to you?”

Ugh.

“Yeah...mostly stick to cities…Actually, I think this is like only the second time I’ve ever seen mountains.”

“Ah.” Now Anders was definitely looking at me weirdly, with a hint of what looked like triumph in his eyes, and I regretted opening my mouth.  “I must say, I’m a little confused.  Did you not say you travelled across Ferelden?  A country known for various mountain ranges?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.  Feeling rather cornered, embarrassed, and frustrated with myself for not paying more attention to the geography of Thedas (I’m American, okay? Our schools just don’t _do_ geography. At all.), I tried to save myself.  It was probably pointless, but whatever .

“You make it sound like I travelled the entirety of Ferelden.  It was only a small bit.”  I felt pretty good about that until Varric, because of course he’d be listening, butted in.

“If it was such a small bit, how come it’s so hard to remember the names of the few places you’ve been?” He had that sly look on, the one that he always wore when he knew he just verbally waylaid someone.

I could feel myself flush all the way to the ends of my ears, enough that it probably showed through my naturally dark skin tone.  It’s then that I realized I probably never had them fooled with my vague shtick, which is pretty embarrassing since it’s been _months._   I could see Hawke grinning and even Fenris had on a smirk.  My brain was going every which way, scrambling for something to say but, in the end, Hawke saved me.

“Alright, enough of that.  As funny as it is to watch you flounder, we’re not about to start an interrogation, Fitz.”

Ah, sweet relief.  I pulled a face at Anders and Varric, who were still giving me those knowing looks and directed my attention back to soaking in Earth’s natural gifts.  Or whatever planet this actually is.

Pretty soon after the laughter at my expense, we came up to what seemed like guards.  Their outfits were weird and oddly revealing, which was fascinating on the basis that a lot of the people I’d seen typically wore conservative styles (with the very notable exception of one rogue pirate).  They let us pass with only a nod in greeting, and they actually glanced curiously at me.  I gave them a grin which was blatantly ignored by all of them. 

The Dalish camp was just as I imagined an old time nomadic campground to be, though the Aravels weren’t a part of that picture.  Their colorfulness was rather shocking and I really would’ve liked to get a closer look but there were stone-faced elves everywhere.  It probably wouldn’t have been smart to separate myself from the group and, now that we were in the camp, Hawke seemed to be set on getting it over with as soon as possible.  I followed, in significantly lower spirits than earlier.

Hawke was busy talking to the trader, boring, so I took the time to let my eyes wander.  I subconsciously looked for Feynriel, to no avail.  I did, however, spot a woman who I could only assume was the Keeper.  She was a statuesque woman in her later years but, even from afar, she seemed to hold a certain air of wisdom.  I idly wondered if she’d have any idea what to do with someone who spontaneously jumped worlds one random evening. 

I followed Hawke alongside the others, not really realizing we’d approached the Keeper until her voice surprised me.  I watched her then, though she only gave me a brief glance over.

“Greetings, Hawke.  I’m sure you are aware of Feynriel’s state?”

Hawke nodded, uncharacteristically solemn, and responded, “I received a letter from his mother just the other day.  Whenever you wish to proceed, I will be ready.”

The exchange was vague at best and I was absolutely dying to question Hawke about this.  Luckily, the two exchanged farewells and we left the camp right after.  I waited until we were at a polite distance away from the unfriendly guards before pouncing.

“What’s wrong with Feynriel?  Why wasn’t he there?” I must’ve sounded eager because Hawke seemed a little surprised at my interest.  He answered anyways.

“I was written by Feynriel’s mother yesterday.  Apparently he went into a creepy mage-specific coma the other day.  Keeper Marethari and I will head to the alienage soon enough to deal with…whatever is going on with the boy.”

I was a bit surprised by the fact that Feynriel had snuck back into the alienage without anyone noticing.  But, a coma?  That seemed…serious, for a lack of better phrasing. 

Hawke was walking a bit faster now and I had to trot just to keep up, “Will he be okay?  Does magic normally do this?”

Anders cut in with an answer, “It is a grave matter.  The boy becomes more endangered the longer he stays in the Fade.”

I frowned harder.  The Fade.  The notion of some place that most races held a connection to that isn’t even a physical world.  I wondered, not for the first time, whether the Fade had anything to do with my situation.  It just seemed so impossible, but I got used to the reality of magic in this world so maybe the sooner I accept the idea of some dream world as a reality, the sooner I find a way out.

The talk of Feynriel left a rather solemn mood within our party; a solemn mood that only lasted a minute or so before Varric and Hawke started shooting jokes and jibes back and forth.

A sudden thought hit me when I could see the city gates in the horizon and I interrupted their conversation about the pros and cons of certain ales. “Hey, wait.  What was even the point of this trip?”

“I was wondering when you would think to ask that!” I scowled at Hawke’s laughter and thankfully he answered. “I had to find some Dalish tattoo ink for that herbalist in the Gallows.”

I furrowed my brow, “But he didn’t give you anything.”

Hawke waved a finger at me, “Your skills of observation need some work, Fitz.  I nicked the ink from a chest near the entrance on the way out.  I only talked to the trader because I just couldn’t resist learning more about it.”

I gaped, which everyone got a good chuckle at.  I hadn’t even seen him stop, let alone open a chest! 

Hawke patted me on the shoulder. “Maybe one day, I’ll teach you how to be this awesome.” Very condescending.

“Fuck off, I'm great at stealing," I threw out, not really thinking.  It wasn’t exactly true, but I got away with shit most of the times.  I got really good at running over this past year.  Like, track star good.

By this time, we’d reached the gates (luckily no one heard my stealing comment).  Hawke pushed my head with the flat of his palm and I stumbled forward.  When I looked back to glare, I noticed the others weren’t following.  Hawke answered me before I could even pose a question.

“Well, this is where you be a good boy and run along home.  We’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“Wait, where’re you guys goin’ now?” And why can’t I go?

“Alas, we have business on the Wounded Coast.  Much too dangerous for you.” He actually looked apologetic for a second, “Once we give you some stabbing lessons, you’ll be more than welcome!”

I must’ve been pouting because Hawke was clearly having trouble hiding a grin.  I tried to control my expressions before replying.  I didnt want him to get the wrong impression, like i was disappointed or something.

“Oh.  Whatever.  I’ve got work to do anyways.”

Hawke started to walk backwards, still talking, “Be good!  And for all that is good, stay out of Darktown!”

“Yeah, yeah.  See ya.” I gave a half-hearted wave as I watched Hawke catch up to the others.  I noted that he turned to wave back. 

As I walked through the gates, I remembered Varric telling stories about the Wounded Coast and all the shit they’d had to deal with whenever they went there.  It’s definitely a good thing I wasn’t going there.  I picked up the pace when, again, I had to pass some Templars.  Maybe this would be a good time to go reading again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont actually know if its reasonable to be able to go to sundermount and go back to the city on the same day? *shrugs*


	9. Letters from Non-Lovers

It took all my strength not to throw the book I held in my hands over the banister where I’d be able to hear the satisfying crash that would definitely sooth the current feeling of frustration that was threatening to suffocate me.  Alas, I would probably be accused of attacking the Grand Cleric and, like, executed for it or something.  As it was, I just shoved the book back on the shelf, not minding where I placed it so long as it would be out of my sight. 

I was brought back down to earth when I noticed one of the sisters a few feet away watching me, somewhat intently.  Worried she might try to call security on me, I swallowed my anger and decided it would be best for me to leave the Chantry altogether.  I’d only recently began to see that sister, but she just looked like the type to actively search for reasons to kick the riff-raff out. 

As I walked, I thought about my first taste of real nature since arriving here.  Today’s sky was especially blue, it made me wonder how beautiful it must be in the mountains right now. 

When I visited the Smokies, Dad and I had taken what must’ve been hundreds of pictures.  I don’t think we ever even got them developed; we just uploaded them to the computer and put them in a special folder.  I could remember a picture of some spectacularly orange trees, but everything else was a bit blurry.  I frowned, focused on attempting to recall an image of the Smokies that I could compare to what I’d seen of Sundermount.

I stopped, midstep, when I realized how close I was the city gates; the same ones that would lead me right out of this fucking place and back to the mountains.  

Theoretically, I could just leave Kirkwall.  Find a way home at some other city; a city with a more helpful library, and maybe even less murderers lurking in every dark alley.  I shook my head, needing to dispel these risky thoughts before I got all anxious or something.  Realistically, I was nowhere near prepared to go on such a journey by myself.  I would last maybe a week before I died from berry poisoning or something.  Or worse, slavers.  Even Kirkwall had those assholes, you know, before they are started getting _murdered_.  But, I heard other places in Thedas weren't so lucky.

“Oi, you. What’re you up to?”

I jumped, immediately looking towards the Templar who'd jusy shouted at me.  He was stood a few paces away from me, probably glaring too, but I didn't look him in the face so I don't really know. 

Templars were always too close and too big and too intimidating.  Just a massive figure in shiny armour, with a fucking broad sword at their sides.

Without really thinking, I threw out a sloppy grin to the air and said, too loudly (a common result of my nervousness), “Yo, nothin’ much! Headin’ home now, later, yeah?”

I didn’t stick around to see what the guy made of my word vomit.  I basically booked it right out of there, and I didn't look back.

~           

I stared at the piece of paper; my face most likely contorted in horror or some other similarly extreme expression.  I looked up at the vendor who gave it to me, but they just shrugged and turned away, not even interested or aware of the bomb they had just delivered to my unsuspecting hands. 

Stumbling away from the crowded bazaar, my feet took me to a familiar route; one that was in the opposite direction of where the paper told me to go.  In the farthest corner of Hightown, where all the estates were located, was a hidden alley that I had used many times before for hiding reasons.  I kept a look out for Hawke, as he has been milling around his mother’s old family estate for a while now.  In a short while, once the papers go through or whatever else is entailed in buying a house, Hawke would be living permanently in Hightown.  It was weird to think about, and on this occasion, I had no trouble at all dismissing the thoughts of a noble Hawke. 

Not many people were around and those who were didn’t look twice at me.  After a lot of practice, I’d gotten the busy servant-elf thing down to an art; the missive I held in my hands, combined with the urgent gait and slightly panicked look in my eyes (completely natural, given the circumstances), all made for an utterly normal sight.

I made it to the alley in record time, wasting no time in slumping against the stone, settling myself behind an old, empty chest.  For a few seconds, all I could do was stare down at the paper that was crinkled but otherwise clean and harmless looking at first glance.  The paper shook slightly from the tremors that were wracking my hands, so I made myself close my eyes.  I took a shuddering breath, counted out five Mississippi’s, and repeated until the shaking was under control. 

After one last deep breath, I open my eyes and then the paper.  I re-read what had stunned me back in Lowtown, but the shock was still there even as I read it a third time. 

I honestly thought she was dead.  From what I’d heard about apostates, I knew they never lasted long.  A small, bitterly vicious part of me, one that I thought I had buried a long time ago, had been glad to hear that, because it meant that there was a greater chance that I would never have to see her or suffer at her hands ever again.  I gripped the paper tighter to keep the tremors from coming back.

The note was short and simple; meant to be read by others as a flirtatious love letter though it was anything but.  If Hawke could only read this, or one of the others, I’d never hear the end of “Marcella” and our so-called “hide-away” where we first met.  Why she decided to contact me after such a long time made me wonder if she had been watching me this entire time.  Made me wonder if she knew about how close I’d gotten to Hawke. 

I tore the letter to bits, not stopping until I couldn’t make out any of the words that had filled me with such dread and terror.  Rather than scatter the remnants on the ground, I throw them in the empty chest to my right.  The lid shut with an echoing slam and, for a moment, I felt a little bit better. 

I decided to leave all thoughts of her and that letter with that chest.  It was, of course, easier said than done, but I physically couldn’t handle the thought of voluntarily going back to that place.  I had spent nearly a year of burying those memories, short-lived as they were.  She only had me for a few weeks at most, but that was enough torture for a life-time, in my opinion.  Maybe someday I’d be able to gather enough courage to face her, but I think things would have to be pretty fucking desperate for me to turn to that.

Those few weeks I spent with her had fueled every single one of my living nightmares to this goddamn day.  I can't let people touch me, because all I fucking think of is her, and those fucking minions of hers.  But, after all that mental fuckery of mine, I had to acknowledge the distinct possibility that she held some answers for my predicament.  You know, if I ever decided to ask.

After all, I’m reasonably sure she was the one who brought me here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i totally didn't read over this! so i'm sorry for mistakes, i'm sure there's many


	10. Indecision

I fell with a hard thud, arms spinning and everything before hitting the ground.  I closed my eyes and tried very hard to pretend I was somewhere else, and not sweaty and bruised on Hawke's floor.

“Come on, I barely even touched you," Hawke called to me from across the room. 

Funnily enough, it was actually his mother who saved me in my time of need.

“Oh, boys.  Haven’t you been at this long enough?” She proceeded to purse her lips, before adding on, “Also, our drawing room isn’t appropriate for a sparring ring.”

“But, Mother,” Hawke drawled. “where else am I supposed to train Fitzy-boy? Anywhere else, it just looks like I’m beating up some poor elven child.  Very bad for my image.”

Hawke graciously helped me up, though it was more at his own insistence than any of my own.  I was content with just remaining on the floor, have a nice lie down.  Catch my fucking breath.

“Garrett!” Leandra exclaimed, tone admonishing, and she shook her head at the sight of Hawke's less than gentle handling of me.  He basically just fucking hauled me up by one of my limp arms, and I was teetering on my ill-prepared feet when Leandra came over to my side.

“Come along, darling, you must be famished after all that.”

I let her guide me from the room, making a point to look back at Hawke in order to deliver an incredibly smug look.  He just pulled an ugly face in response as he followed us downstairs. 

“I’ll walk you home, Fitz.  I’m meeting someone in the alienage this evening.” He gave me a look and I couldn't stop myself from chewing on my lip.  This could only mean he’d be attending to the Feynriel problem tonight. 

Leandra loaded me up with a basket to bring back to Merrill’s house, ignoring Hawke’s needling (“We really do have to get going _now_ , Mother.”) all the while.  However, soon enough we were out the door of Hawke’s new mansion and heading out of Hightown.

I’ll never get used to actually going into one of the estates in Hightown, not including the dilapidated abandoned one that our favorite brooding elf inhabited.  Hawke’s paperwork went through only a little while ago, though it was still a bit sparse of furniture.  Hence our ability to spar inside the building. It looked really good overall, but there was no missing the high class feel of the place.  Really rich and fancy.  Made me feel like I was going to get in trouble half the time I was in there, though that awkwardness was usually gone by the third or fourth time I hit the stupid, fancy floor.

Hawke was also noticeably happier and I knew most of it had to do with his mother who was positively ecstatic to have her family home back.  It didn’t change the fact that he was still kicking my ass every other day and calling it training.  I winced, walking made a twinge in my leg hurt even worse.  Hawke found particular pleasure in kicking my feet out from under me during our training sessions, probably trying to teach me how to avoid such tactics but I was still slow on the part that involves staying on my own two feet afterwards and not on the ground.  I was getting better at the stabby bit though.  I thought maneuvering the daggers would be super awkward and hard but Hawke was actually a stellar teacher and everlastingly patient.  Me, on the other hand, I probably wasn’t the best student.  I was beginning to avoid him, in fact. The other day I actually hid under a vendor’s stall when I saw Hawke striding determinedly by.  Luckily the vendor knew me and only gave me weird looks instead of accusing me of thievery or something. 

I totally understand the importance of learning to defend myself, okay?  And I even get the actual necessity of it too (especially since I got to factor in whatever the future has in store for me, if I am to stay trapped in this medieval deathtrap city).  But, goddamn, I was still working on the whole dedication thing.  Training hurt, and it's not like I ever really exercised all that much back home.  I quit doing sports back in middle school, 8th grade or something, and the most exercise I'd get since then was walking.  I used to walk everywhere.  Kind of like I do now, I guess.

My thoughts aside, I could clearly see that Hawke was a bit tense.  I took his cue and didn’t push conversation, which was pretty easily in the first place.  Once we passed the bazaar, he came out of his thoughts and proceeded to throw an arm around my shoulders.  I wasn’t anywhere near his height, but by this point I had to be over 5’8 and it made it much less awkward when Hawke would insist on walking while practically hugging my neck. 

I tentatively started the conversation for once, “So, do you think Feynriel will be alright?”

He side glanced at me, “You’re awfully concerned for this boy.  Any reason for that?” He tried to add a lilt to his tone but I could tell he was worried too, although also curious about the reason for my own concern.

“I guess I feel bad for him…he hasn’t had the easiest time of it.” I wanted to say more in that moment so, tentatively again, I said, “And this Fade business…it sounds pretty sketchy.  I don’t really know anything about it but from what I heard it sounds, like, really dangerous.”

I glanced over to see his reaction and caught him looking at me in a considering manner.  I looked away to chew on my lip until finally he deigned to reply.

“Well, kid…it definitely, like, is really dangerous.” I had to laugh at his awkward mimic of my speech patterns.  I was constantly teased for it but I could never seem to kick the habit of speaking like a twenty-first century teenager from America.

“But, don’t worry your pretty, little head.” He brought his hand up from my shoulder to ruffle my hair. “Yet again, Hawke shall save the day.” He made sure to sound all resigned to his fate of being akin to a savoir for most people in Kirkwall but I knew he loved it.

I finally pushed his arm away, walking down the steps to the alienage, and hurried to be a few steps ahead of him before shooting back, “You’re a fame whore and you know it.”

He had a pretty good laugh over that, momentarily losing the slight worry he couldn’t completely hide.  He turned right from the stairs and I followed until he stopped, rather abruptly, and turned to face me.

“Alright, this is as far as you go.  This _is_ a private affair.” He ruffled my hair again.

Too distracted to get annoyed, I was currently attempting to work up the courage to beg Hawke to let me go with him.  I was getting pretty desperate; I couldn’t help but wonder if I could find some answers from whatever conversation was about to go on in there, like how exactly Hawke was going to wake Feynriel up.  I just couldn’t get the words out.  The Fade was too weird for me to comprehend and it was hard to learn about on my own.  And asking too many questions always seemed to bring all the wrong sorts of attention.  

I wanted to tell Hawke.  I wanted to ask him to help me find a way home.  But he was constantly helping everyone.  Literally everyone.  I could clearly see how much he ran himself ragged for the people of Kirkwall and I knew it was all because he was just a naturally good person.  I couldn't help but want to ask for his help, just as I couldn't help the fact that I didn't want to be another burden on his shoulders.  And, of course, the whole being-from-another-world thing might be too much for him to handle.  I think I would just about die if I ever had to look into Hawke's eyes and see not friendship, but something else entirely like hostile mistrust.  Or hate.  Telling Hawke could push him away forever and even though the whole point of telling him would be so that I could be the one who leaves forever, the mere thought of earning Hawke's rejection was enough to chill me to the core.

I was brought out of my inner turmoil by Hawke's gentle hand on my shoulder.  I twitched away from him and covered by taking a somewhat faltering step backwards; awfully aware of the in-coordination of my limbs under the weight of his worried stare.

“Alright, see ya!” I gave a jaunty wave and left Hawke, who was most likely wondering what the hell was up with me.

When I was closer to Merrill’s front door, I looked back to see if Hawke had gone inside yet.  I felt honest relief when I saw that he had.  I absolutely had to get out of here or else I’d kick myself for the rest of the evening.  I hightailed it out of the alienage once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another sketchy chapter! hopefully i'll be able to come back and flesh it out more soon  
> thank you for reading!


	11. Shady Connections

I woke with a start.  Since receiving Marcella’s letter, I don’t think I’ve gotten one full night of sleep.  I brought my blanket up to my face, letting it cover my mouth so that it just barely tickled my nose. 

The Fade had been on my mind since I left Hawke to his conference a week ago.  He didn’t outright  _say_ that he was meeting with the Dalish keeper, but it wasn’t hard to deduce; who else would he be meeting in the Alienage that wasn’t me or Merrill? 

The more I thought about it, I doubt I could ever enter the Fade.  I doubt I'm even connected to it, seeing as there's no such thing as a Fade where I'm from.  Thanks to Varric, I learned that all but dwarfs are connected to the Fade; meaning dwarves can never dream or do magic.  Right up my alley.

I turned over in bed, peering over at the corner where Merrill was still soundly asleep.  All I could see was a slight, blanket covered lump; not even her head was showing. 

I got out of bed and began to dress as quietly as possible.  Only once did Merrill make any sort of noise; a louder than normal huff that made me freeze.  After recovering from my scare (I fully expected her to jump up, point, and call me out), all I had to do was stuff on my old boots and I was out of here.

Tying the frayed laces, I absently thought about just how old these shoes were and, from the looks of them, just how much longer they had before they completely fell apart.  My dad bought me these boots for that Christmas, just a good few months before I landed in the dredges of Kirkwall.  As I headed to the front door, I wondered at the fact that they hadn’t been stolen.  They’re pretty good boots, though very nondescript looking; especially now that the original dark brown color has faded, the soles are just about run through, and each boot has gained quite a many scuff marks from being put through hard labor.  Pretty good for boots that were probably more of a fashion statement than the type that were meant for running all over a god forsaken city for nearly two years straight. 

Shoe talk aside, I had business to do.  Walking through Kirkwall at night is stupid at best and the thugs crawling around Lowtown were nothing to laugh at.  Luckily, I have two years of practice in dodging them.  Perfected to near invisibility, in fact!  When I first met Hawke, I was mostly just good at dodging death by being a stellar runner.  But now, it’s like I can melt into the shadows and pass by, unseen and unheard.  Hawke and Varric (and when she feels so inclined to depart wisdom, Isabela) have been giving me pointers ever since Hawke got more serious at teaching me combat.  Though he maintains, and oftentimes stresses, that he is teaching me _defense_ not offense.  As he likes to put it, “You are absolutely forbidden from actively looking for fights.  Defend yourself, sure.  But, for Maker’s sake, don’t look for it,” and then he’ll kick my legs out from under me again for good measure.  All the while, I could hear Anders and Isabela lamenting that I should appreciate my innocence while I still have it.  I could point at Merrill all I wanted but they have absolutely no problem putting her in action.  I think it’s an age thing.  I also suspect they think me much younger than I actually am.  I really don’t know, it’s like I’m the collective little brother half the time, which is even weirder because I’ve always been used to being an only child.  Only Scott was ever super protective of me.

Following the shadows took up most of my concentration, my senses reaching out far beyond the point they’d been at a few years ago.  Thugs and other deviants prowled the streets like they owned them (though some may as well have); I slunk past a group that wasn’t even trying to lurk or hide, they were basically strutting their stuff down Lowtown at 3 AM. 

After I was quite certain it was safe to dart across the alleyway, I finally reached my destination.  I knocked lightly three times and then gently turned the doorknob left and waited.

My wait was maybe a few seconds at best, though I couldn’t help but feel the danger of just standing outside longer absolutely necessary.  The door opened a crack and I immediately pushed through.

Kody looked the same as ever.  Dirty and lanky and always wearing a crook’s grin.  He was already heading back to the only table in the room, which seemed to only ever serve business purposes.  Papers were stacked high and piled together in an almost nonsensical manner, though Kody always seemed to know where everything was.  As he turned to sit down, eyes roving over me intently, he gestured to the corner where his bed sat.  I opted to just lean against the wall opposite him.  I was willing to bet he’d never washed his sheets in his entire life.

“Well, this sure is a surprise,” He simpered. “Was beginning to think you too important to talk to commoners like me anymore.”

“What’re you on about,” I tried to get across a no-nonsense air but he simply waved it away.

“You living it up with that rich bloke now, yeah? Always hanging off him and those dangerous looking friends of his,” The look he was giving me made me shift feet.  He only grinned wider and probably would’ve continued to take the piss much longer had I not decided to get straight to the point.

“What d’ya know ‘bout what’s goin’ on in the sewers?”

He sat up from where he had been stretched out in the chair and leering at me.  Now, his eyes were more serious; I definitely caught his attention.

“Why do you want to know?”

I pursed my lips semi-unthinkingly.  Kody didn’t usually ask questions.

“Just tell me. I got money,” I shoved the handful of coins onto the table and he eagerly counted them out. 

He scoffed, pocketing the coins, “Going to cost you more than that, kid. This is pocket change.”

“I owe you a favor, then. Now could you get on with it? I ain’t gonna stand here all day.”

Smiling once again, Kody plowed through a basic run down of the current happenings in the sewers, occasionally rifling through the papers on his table.  It was grim news; just as I’d feared.  Desperate mages were never fun, or safe.

Kody slapped down the paper he’d finished relating to me.  I straightened out of my slouch when his undivided attention suddenly zoned in on me.  He grinned.

“That’s all there is,” he crossed his arms. “And I know just the favor I want to call in.”

I raised my eyebrows, almost unconsciously, “Yeah?”

“You know that small guy, the one who works the stall a little ways away from Elegant?” He paused to check if I was following, which I was and indicated so with a short nod, before continuing, “He’s got something of mine stashed away in that hovel of his and I want it back.  You’re gonna get it for me.”

Kody described the object to me, even drew me a little picture.  It was pretty stupid, really.  It was literally just a box (granted a fancy one, made for rich people) and it was full of cutlery, of all things.  I assumed it was just extremely expensive since I didn’t exactly see Kody using silver spoons for his dinnertime stew. 

“You got that?” Kody was looking at me all intense and serious, like he wasn’t sure if I could do the job.  I scoffed at him, slightly offended.  I may not have done anything like this in a while, but that didn’t mean I’d lost all skill.

“Just a little B&E, eh? No prob.” I made sure to sound extra casual, for once intentionally using slang from back home, just to see the mild look of confusion on his face.  He didn’t disappoint, he stared and opened his mouth partially, as if about to say something.  He shook his head instead.

“You know what? I don’t care what the void you just said. Better hurry though, he’ll be waking up soon, I’d imagine.”

“You want me to go _now_? The sun’s nearly up!”

He gave me a ‘are-you-stupid’ look and retorted, “What, you want to wait and give him time to sell it? Damn, kid, you stupid?”

Mumbling some insults under my breath, I waved him off and headed out, already feeling the panic of such a small time limit.  I forwent shutting the door on my way out, in order to piss Kody off for my own personal satisfaction, and began another trek across Lowtown at night.  Or early morning, or whatever. 

~

An hour or so later, I trudged back through Kody’s doorway, completely worn out.  One thing the bastard ‘forgot’ to mention was that the mark was paranoid as all hell.  He’d placed traps all over his house, literally.  I’d done a decent job of avoiding them, until I’d actually grabbed the thing and was leaving.  I had to run the rest of the way out, to avoid being chased by a deranged vendor, and set off another trap right near the front door.  I was out before it really did any harm, but the hem of my coat and part of my pants got singed from the last trap which was fucking laced with fire.  At least the first one only knocked the breath out of me (while also emitting a loud sound which I’m sure had my mark flying out of bed).  As it was, I staggered into Kody’s place and all but threw the box at him.  He cursed me, but only fumbled slightly to catch it.

“You brat. You could’ve scratched this!”

I shrugged, I really couldn’t care.  “’Kay, we’re even now.” I said, turning back around.  I needed to find a quiet place to calm my heart palpitations.

“Wait!” I looked back, raising an eyebrow.  Kody was leant forward in his chair, looking at me with pure curiosity, “In all seriousness, why’re you interested in the sewers?”

I scowled, “None ya business.”

“Kid, you’re terrified of the sewers.”

This time I stared.  It’s been such a long time, I forgot there were some people who knew me from when I first arrived here.  Or, I should say, when I first got out of the sewers.  I guess it was too much to hope that no one had noticed my fear.

I didn’t respond, I just left and didn’t look back even when he called out a mild curse at me for being a jerk.  He didn’t really care, he was probably just trying to taunt me some more.  I mean, he was right.  I’m still pretty damn terrified of the sewers.  Don’t plan on going down there whatsoever.  But, I’ve come a far way since then.  I can actually go to the docks without shaking all the way down to my fingertips and my head didn’t get that fuzzy, faint sort of sensation when I so much as thought about the sewers.  Before, I would pretty much blank out when the sewers entered my mind.  I’d lose sense of time and everything seemed to fade out around me except for my breathing which just seemed to get heavier and more ragged.  I’d come to only to find that I’d pushed myself in whichever hidden nook or corner was empty with my hands on my knees and my skin clammy and cold.

So, yeah.  I’ve gotten pretty far.  Shit, I was so close to being over it, and then that bitch sends me a fucking letter.  She knew things about me that would be dangerous, should anyone else find out.  There was so much that I didn't want anyone to ever know about me; my connection to Marcella, what she did to me, and, most of all, the undeniable fact that I was not, and probably never will be, a normal person.  

She hadn’t made any moves since the letter, she’s the type to wait it out.  Where interlopers are concerned, I was reasonably sure that she wouldn’t try to include any of my friends in this.  It’d be stupid of her, for one thing, and she had to know she wouldn’t last a minute in a fight with Hawke and his crew.  But still, that didn't mean she wouldn't try to send people after me, if she even has people to send.  In any case, I wasn’t about to let her catch me off guard again.  On the off chance that I have to come face to face with her, I wanted to be ready and, even though I’ll probably always want to, I knew I couldn’t really run forever.  For now though, I could still try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still not read over and i know there are parts that are prob too vague. i'm planning on going over everythin at some point tho!  
> thank you for reading!!


	12. confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some rather vague mentions of torture in the last few paragraphs, not graphic - more like alluding to

It happened literally a day later.  One freaking day and the rug was pulled mercilessly and, I swear, out of _nowhere_. 

We were just hanging out in Varric’s room.  Hawke and Varric insisted I learn how to play card games, which wasn’t something I was into on either worlds.  My knowledge of card games basically started and ended with Go-Fish and War.  Back home I would literally rather suck glue than play cards.  

So, it's like I said, card games could never really hold my interest for long and the same went for gambling.  However, everybody always got hyped about them.  So, I at least tried to get into it when Hawke and Varric sat me down and all but forced the rules of Wicked Grace down my throat.

It happened when my attention was waning.  I was getting the rules mixed up and was currently trying to think up an excuse to leave when Varric opened his mouth and oh-so casually dropped a bomb on our small party.

“So, Scholar, I hear you’re pretty interested in underground apostates these days.”

I dropped my cards.  Hawke choked mid-swig of whatever ungodly drink he had in his hands.  He barely even waited for his coughing to stop before he was emitting a rather loud ‘WHAT?’ that nearly echoed in the room, I swear.  It was clearly aimed at me, though Hawke immediately turned back to Varric for more explanation.  However, the dwarf didn't say a fucking word to elaborate.

Varric just inclined his head in my direction and raised a brow, all with a pleasant look on his face.  His gesture was clear; he was waiting for me to speak.

“’M not.”

My face was flushed, it was probably even showing through my skin tone.  I picked my cards back up, my mind racing.  There was no way to get out of this without arousing some suspicion.  The thought of telling the truth was so far out of the question, but half-truths could be possible so long as there are no holes in my story…

“You bought information about the sewers and yet you’ve no reason for it?” Varric’s voice was laced with blatant disbelief. 

“SO," I said, too loudly. "Varric, who haven’t you bought in this goddamn city?”

“Whoa, Fitz, no need to bite his head off.  Varric, what’s going on?” Hawke was close enough to lay a calming hand on my shoulder, and it made me sick because I knew I was about to lie even more.  I forced myself to look at Varric too, who had his hands raised in a placating manner.

“Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, Scholar.  I’m just worried since it sounds like you’re poking your nose in a…rather dangerous matter.”

He exchanged looks with Hawke; looks that were a bit lost on me, though he did turn back towards me to say, “Just looking out for you.  And, I’m not judging, but I could’ve given you better information than the gutter-rat you went to.”

Yeah.  Note to self: No more hitting up Kody for information.  I didn’t have time to fully think bad thoughts towards the slime-ball, because Hawke wasted no time in picking up the mantle that Varric had practically placed at his feet.

I half expected Varric to leave us, because I’m sure his whole reason for saying all this shit was solely to bring it to Hawke’s attention.  And to put me on the spot.  

Oddly enough, it felt a whole lot like someone just tattled to the teacher on me. 

I completely lapsed into thoughts about second grade when Drew Rizzoli told the teacher I’d been stealing all the blue crayons during art class.  And that time some punk framed me for vandalizing my own locker in freshman year.  I almost felt surprised by these thoughts, because I don’t think I’d had such specific memories in a long while.  They were so insignificant, too.  I mean, nothing even really came out of either incidents.  I think I might’ve gotten detention for the latter but that was it.  Before I could wonder about this sudden bout of nostalgia, I noticed Hawke was staring me down.  And I realized, even more belatedly, that he had brought me out of my reminiscence by shaking my shoulder. 

My gut reaction had me jerking backwards and I glared at him, both of them, while I tensed for the oncoming argument.  Hawke stared back just as hard, and thankfully did not attempt to grab me or touch me whatsoever.

“Fitz.  You can trust me with anything.  If you’re in trouble, you had better tell me now before we find your corpse in some barrel in Darktown.”

“I’m not in trouble.  I was askin’ simple questions.  I’ve been hearing stuff...stuff ‘bout the sewers, and it got me thinking.  But, that’s all.  I swear.”

It was most likely evident that there was actually something wrong, because my pleading did no good.  Hawke, living up to his name, did not take his eyes off me the entire time and probably didn’t believe me for a single second.  Actually, scratch that.  I know he didn't believe me.

“Right.  How about you say that again, only let’s add in some more eye-darting and nose-rubbing.  Really get across that message of ‘I’m lying through my teeth’.” His tone was dry as all hell and he folded his arms across his chest as he spoke, leaning forward on the table. 

I scowled.  I mean, he was right.  I utterly failed at that lie.  I tried to make a come back, but Hawke went on talking, cutting me off as soon as I opened my mouth to redeem myself.

“Fitz, if you have absolutely any notions of going into the sewers, for whatever reason, I am expressly telling you to throw them out.  I don’t care what you say this time, I will not allow you to get yourself killed.  Or involved with the shady businesses going on down there.  I mean it.”

I was shocked by the seriousness in his voice and expression; it was so out of place.  I never thought I’d ever accuse Hawke of being stern, but that was exactly how he was acting right now.  Almost like he was my guardian or something.

It was a nice thought, that Hawke cared enough to forbid me from doing something.  Something I wasn’t necessarily planning on doing, but still.  This was bad.  I wouldn’t put it past Hawke to put his connections to good use and have people watching my every move.  Varric too.

But, seriously.  The sheer audacity, like he had any say in what I do with my life?  Like I was a small kid who needed to be taught right from wrong; who was so weak they needed to be protected from themselves.  Irrational anger was bubbling inside me, and I was just about to set Hawke right when he spoke again.

He must’ve taken my silence for spite or insolence, and I’m sure it didn’t help that I probably had a pretty obstinate look on my face at that moment (I mean, I was getting ready to tell him off).  It's unfortunate, because his next words were what really set me off.

“I mean it, Fitz.  The sewers aren’t safe for anyone.  Those people will see some skinny kid and jump without hesitating—”

“So you mean, like, any thug or carta member in Darktown.  Or, hell, _anywhere_ in this city?”

He continued without acknowledging my words, “They won’t just rob you and kill you.  Did you know there are stories of people being held for months by blood mages, by criminals in general?  If you go—”

I stood up abruptly, and my chair screeched backwards from the force of my movements.

“I said, I’m not goin’ there. I. Will. Never. Go. Into. The. Sewers.” I emphasized each word through gritted teeth.  “I don’t care what you think I’m up to.  It’s not that.  So, step the fuck off, alright?”

I had a moment to register the slight surprise on both Hawke and Varric’s faces when I finished speaking, or, more like, yelling.  I turned on my heel and fled from the room.  The door slammed in the wall behind me as I pushed past the drunk who’s always wandering the hall and stairway.  Ignoring his shout and curses, I focused on getting the hell out.  My head was going fuzzy from anger and I knew I had to calm down soon or something bad would happen. 

Ever since my fight from forever ago, my anger had really been hard to let go and with it always came the fuzzy, almost floating-like feeling like I was about the ascend the situation from pure fury alone.  And go where, I had no clue.  It was almost like there was something about extreme emotions that…don't fit.  With me.  As in, it wasn’t right, or natural, for me to feel them.  I’d spent so long being borderline apathetic, forcing myself to avoid thinking about certain things and forcing my thoughts to stay on the present.  Surviving.

I was going to regret my outburst once I finally calmed down.  I was heading to my spot, the alcove in Hightown.  I knew I was going to be there a while this time.

~

I fell asleep. 

Once I got to my spot, I focused on taking deep, slow breaths.  And thinking safe thoughts, like how pretty the walls looked covered in moss and ivy.  Or about the scent of cooking that wafted through the air from the various estates that were most likely just sitting down for dinner.  It was with that that I was able to calm down, and incidentally fall asleep at the same time.

I woke with surprise.  I didn’t remember even feeling tired.  It was dark out now, though I could not tell exactly how late it was.  I sat up, but continued leaning against the cushy wall.

I couldn’t go back home.  Hawke was probably waiting to ambush me at Merrill’s.  Or, alternately, Hawke told her all about everything that happened and she would just drag me to him as soon as I walked through the door.  Either option was very possible. All I knew was that I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.  Preferably for at least another day.  Hah.

I rested my head on my knees, with my hands hugging my legs, and stared at the wall across from me.  The guilt was hitting me, just as I knew it would.  Hawke didn’t really deserve my anger, and neither did Varric.  I bit my lip, hating myself for blowing up at them when they were just trying to be my friends.  Or in Hawke’s place, a surrogate parent. 

I wanted to blame my temper, and my anxiety.  A lot of shit was going on in my life, though most of it currently revolved around Marcella.  That thought made me shift gears, and I stood up.  Pacing the little alcove, I wondered at her inaction.  No more letters.  No goons.  It made me wonder if the letter was a bluff; just bait to try and make me go to her on my own.  Maybe she was near powerless?  Back then, I remember she had quite a few people following her around like some sort of weird-ass cult. 

I stopped paced, resting against the wall once more, though still standing this time.  I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes in an attempt to maintain focus.  Even if I saw one of her followers, I had no confidence that I’d be able to recognize them today.  It was always dark and they all wore hoods.  Marcella’s features were the only ones ingrained into me like a hot rod.  Hair that wasn’t blonde, but more of an ashy brown that was dulled with early gray hairs and frizzy which only served to make her look as crazy as she really was.  Her skin was pale and smooth, like most Circle Mages, and her eyes were small; perpetually half-lidded and holding no life or feeling.  Except for malice and insanity.

Mostly, I just remembered that she excelled at elemental magic.  One shock of electricity would put one of her followers straight in line.  I saw her torture some regular, non-mages too.  When I look back, I think they must’ve been like test subjects to her.  I never saw what happened to most of them, but I did watch two of them die under her hand. 

And then there was her skill with a knife.  And I’m not talking a butcher knife or one of the daggers some people fight with.  She liked to use what could best be described as a surgical knife.  Small and compact; perfect for making precise but firm cuts.  She would go deep enough to hurt, but not enough so that I’d lose too much blood.  And she’d go for the places that hurt the most, where the nerves were thickest.  It left me with little butterfly like scars that were faint to see except for in very specific lighting. 

I pressed my palms deeper into my eye sockets.  I needed to stop thinking about this.  Nausea was bubbling in my stomach and reaching for my throat, and in any moment the fuzziness might come back.  I sat back down and wearily went through the motions of purging all thoughts from my head.  Sleepiness was hitting me again, and this time I felt it coming on.  I fully embraced it, because while I might have nightmares, it’s better than the thoughts currently plaguing my mind.  At least the former was only a possibility; the latter was a resounding definite. 


	13. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like to thank DreamersEclipse for the absolute sweetest review! I was so shocked and moved by it, thank you so so much!  
> ~  
> This chapter is a bit short, but I'm hoping to have more written soon :)

I woke again with the help of the rising sun.  It wasn’t a pleasant wake up call, not exactly.  Because when I woke up, my first thought was ‘ _holy hell, why am I outside_ ’ and was quickly followed by all the shit that went down the day before. 

I groaned aloud as I stretched, my body slightly cramped from sleeping curled around my knees all night and there was a kink in my neck that was definitely going to be with me for the rest of the day.  I stood and stretched some more, even going so far as to do one of the only yoga forms I remember though the name of it escapes me. 

I could hear the sounds of Hightown’s market in full swing which probably meant that any hope I had of finding work today was most likely not going to happen.  Errand runners are cut throat and always operate on a first come first serve basis.  I wasn’t too bummed about it though, I had to go apologize to Hawke and Varric.

Walking across Hightown, I tried to come up with some semblance of an appropriate, contrite apology.  I was broken out of this line of thinking when I got distracted by the sight of my sleep-disheveled figure reflected back at me from a passing by Templar.  My hands flew up to fix my hair, which was, honest to god, currently imitating a bird’s nest.  I managed to get most of the knots chilled out by the time I was leaving Hightown’s gates.  Judging from the goings-on, I assumed it was around mid-day.  Way too late for Hawke to still be at his mansion.  My first stop would be Lowtown, specifically the damn tavern I’d stormed out of yesterday.

I weaved in and out of the crowded streets where it seemed like everyone and their mother were out shopping.  When I finally had the Hanged Man within sight, I made a bee-line for it, eager to get out of the crowds even if I wasn’t quite sure of what I was going to say to either Hawke or Varric should I find them in there. 

The bar was relatively empty except for a few of the more die-hard drunks so I went up to the bartender without any reserves.  I waved at him to get his attention and he gave me an awkward smile and nod.

“Hey, is Varric in?”

“He left early this morning.  Haven’t seen him since.  Hawke neither.”

I tried to hold in my grimace, but didn’t quite make it.  I muttered a thanks and turned right around, heading for the streets once more. 

I stood just outside the tavern, a bit to the right, and wondered where I should go now.  It was only for a moment, though.  I made my way for the alienage.  Merrill needed an explanation, too. And of everybody, I was pretty certain she’d be in.

I got like two feet away, heading towards Hawke’s old house, when I heard my name being shouted clear across the market, causing me to actually stumble a bit like a dork.  I looked back and saw Hawke booking it towards me, people pretty much _diving_ out of the way to avoid being trampled or pushed.  I straightened my shirt, playing with the hem mostly just to keep my hands preoccupied, and played through some sentences in my head.  I was stuck between saying _‘I’m sorry I was so rude yesterday’_ and _‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off’_ , but it was all for nothing.  All words left me when Hawke finally made it to me.

Mostly because he damn near tackled me, gathering me up into a bear hug that took me so off guard, it wasn’t even funny. 

“You little asshole! Do you know how worried we were?” He yelled, right in my ear. 

“Why…why are you hugging me?”

He pushed my head down, not helping the kink that was currently killing my neck, while saying, “Why do you think? You pulled a complete disappearing act on us all and you’re wondering why I’m hugging you?”

He let up after a few more seconds, and after I begged him to give me a break.  He looked down at me as I tried to once again fix my hair (and subtly crack my neck).  His eyebrows were doing that furrowing thing where it looks like two woolly caterpillars attempting to kiss right on his forehead.  I almost laughed, but choked it down because while I know Hawke employs inappropriate humor whenever possible, he would probably not appreciate it at the moment.  I’d have to remember to tell him that one later on.

He was still staring, so I took it as a sign that it was time for me to say something.

“I’m sorry,” I winced at how lame it sounded, but soldiered on anyways. “I didn’t mean to yell and storm out on you guys yesterday…”  I let my sentence taper off.  I didn’t really want to bring more attention to my slip about never wanting to go to the sewers _again_.  I was hoping he’d act like it didn’t happen and just accept that I sincerely wasn’t planning on playing explorers in the blood mage infested sewers. 

He studied me for a moment before shaking his head.  He reached out and ruffled my hair, gently and with care.  It was such a drastic change from the way he greeted me a minute ago, that it made me wonder if perhaps he wasn’t really thinking when he hug-tackled me.  Like he lost control of his emotions or something.  The thought made me marvel, like anytime I’m met with a person showing genuine concern towards me.

“I understand.  You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.  We can just forget this ever happened.” That last part was an obvious lie, for both of us, because he was just as likely to forget about it as I was.  Which was a good zero percent chance.  I was brought back to attention when Hawke’s arm moved to my shoulder and he began steering me forward. 

At my questioning look, he continued, “You do, however, have to apologize to Merrill.  Varric’s all bygones be bygones, so you don’t have to fret yourself over him.  But, Merrill was nearly in tears when you didn’t come home last night. And then when none of us could find you.” He gave me a stern look which had me bowing my head, silently mortified at the implication that everyone was looking for me.

“Ahh…right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, Andraste’s tits.  I’ll just ask then, shall I?  Where in the void did you spend the last half a day?”

“…It’s a secret.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Are you telling me there’s a place in Kirkwall that I haven’t been to? Because I’m about to take that as a challenge.”

I blatantly made a face at him, feeling so relieved and maybe even a little happy.

“You couldn’t fit.”

He put his free hand to his chest, miming shock and appall, and replied, “How dare you. Not all of us can be twiggy little elf children.”

I rolled my eyes and retorted, “You keep telling yourself that. Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”

He laughed, loud and unrestrained, just like him.  I didn’t even try to bite down a smile.  Being around Hawke kind of had that affect; everything could be going wrong, but he brought with him this comforting aura that always made a problem feel less like the end of the world and more like something that could be easily fixed.  Like it wasn’t even that big of a deal in the first place. 

We were almost at Merrill’s house and I knew I had to prepare for a good chastising but I couldn’t help but enjoy feeling relaxed and happy, for what felt like the first time in forever.  Hawke wasn’t about to sick an inquisition on me and my past; he finally believed that I wasn’t going to put myself in unnecessarily dangerous situations.  I mean, granted, the key word there was ‘unnecessarily’, but he doesn’t know that.

~

Merrill did scold me.  She probably ranted for a good fifteen minutes, pacing and wringing her hands.  I did genuinely feel guilty.  I hadn’t exactly planned on my night out affecting her so much, which only made me feel even worse because that meant I clearly wasn’t concerned about her own feelings.  Especially after all she’s done for me.

Hawke stayed all the while, grinning and making faces at me, safe from Merrill’s wrath since she was so focused on me.  I couldn’t even scowl or give him the finger without offending Merrill at the same time.

So, I just sat and took it, nodding my head empathetically at all the right times and sometimes interjecting with an ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ or an ‘ _I know_ ’ here and there.  When she was finally winding down, she hugged me again (like Hawke, she tackled me upon first sight).  She went to refill all our teacups, which she had first filled at the beginning of her lecture.  Hawke, with laughter still in his eyes, declined a second cup and got up to leave.  While I still had the chance, I made sure to send him an inappropriate hand gesture, right before he closed the door.  I could hear his signature laughter even with the door the shut.

Merrill filled my cup, with water this time which prompted her to embarrassedly tell me she was out of tea.  I made a mental note to buy some tomorrow as an apology gift.  I thanked her with as much sincerity as I could muster and, realizing that I hadn't had water since yesterday afternoon, I eagerly took a sip from my small teacup.

She was just sitting down and reaching out for her own cup when she suddenly jumped back up again with an exclaimed, “Oh!”

She rushed over to one the benches in the back corner, which was overflowing with books and papers.  She picked up a small piece from on top and headed over to me, holding it out.

“I completely forgot! While you were missing,” I flinched at the unintentionally pointed phrasing of words, which she didn’t catch, “a messenger stopped by! At first I thought, ‘Who could be writing me letters?’ Everybody I know would’ve just shown up in person without warning. But then I saw it was actually addressed to you!” 

When I didn’t immediately grab it, she waved it around in my face.  I didn't register it until she called my name.

I took it gingerly, and Merrill was off again, still talking, but her attention wasn’t on me this time.  She had no idea what she just handed me.

I looked down at the letter with a blank face.  I read the familiar, curved letters that formed my name and idly thanked the heavens that Merrill hadn’t remembered to give me this while Hawke was still here.  I wanted to crumple it up it, rip it to shreds, but instead I placed it carefully on the table in front of me.

I didn’t end up finishing my cup of water; I was too busy controlling the tremors in my hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want everyone to know how much i laughed as i used the word 'inquisition' in there cuz i'm a huge dork


	14. Bar Scenes and Annoying Hawke

I did eventually read the letter.  After Merrill was soundly asleep, I borrowed one of the many candles that lay about the place and settled down near the front door; far enough away that the light wouldn’t bother my sleeping housemate.

Honestly, I was much calmer than I had expected.  After ever so many sets of deep breaths and other calming techniques, I managed to put myself back into place.  I just had to remind myself that she couldn’t touch me here.  The Templars were getting more oppressive with each passing day and it was even more common to see them in all the different areas of the city; not just the Gallows.  A fact which was putting Anders even more on edge.

I opened the letter quickly, like a Band-Aid.  I first took in the script that didn't even fill up half of a single sheet of paper.  Then, I focused on the actual words.

     _Dearest Fitz,_

_It pains me to be so spurned by you._

_I know you received my last message, and I will forgive you for dismissing me, though the thought of your cruelty leaves me in tears._

_I’ll be waiting for you, again, at the place where we once found such great refuge.  Please come, darling.  We really must talk._

_If you don’t, I’m afraid I’ll have to tell my brother about what you and he’ll be the one to retrieve you.  I sincerely hope we don't have to resort to that.  I really think it would be best if we talk this out as adults, as ones who were once so intimate._

_Love always,_

_Marcella_

I almost gagged as I read that disgusting prose.  Nausea, not just induced by the suggestive tone of her letter, also came from the mention of her ‘brother’.  I worried at what it implied.  It could very well be a bluff, but it could also be true.  I guess I’d find out if I’m attacked anytime soon, or, rather, if I wake up in a stinking, dark corner somewhere in the sewers.  It would be silly to assume every attack is Marcella’s goons trying to kidnap me; sometimes it’s really just your everyday Coterie member or Unimportant Thug #3 looking to get some gold bits or the satisfaction of breaking some poor sucker’s nose. 

As for the letter, I tore it up as quietly as I could and donated it to the small fire that was still flickering.  The letter curled and crumpled while the fire let out some small coughs as it ate the offending piece of paper.

I returned to my cot, half hoping I’d still be able to sleep that night.  I wasn’t very optimistic at first, but I figured I might as well try.  With my blanket pulled up to my nose, I wondered about what would happen should Marcella try to send kidnappers after me.  It probably wouldn’t end well.  I knew very well at this point that Varric had eyes all around the bloody city and, in the past, one of those guys always show up when I’m about to get in trouble.  I was reasonably sure her people wouldn’t get me, though I had to admit the idea still frightened me.  More nerve-wracking was the part where I explain to Hawke and everybody how the hell I had gotten contracted thugs set on me. 

For now, it was probably best just to avoid dark alleys and to stop going off on my own (at least in the more dangerous places or at night).  As I turned over, successfully cocooning myself in my blanket, I decided it wouldn’t be too hard to avoid being abducted, especially around Hawke.  I actually fell asleep, comforted by that thought.

 ~

So, naturally, not even a week later, I ended up in Darktown, of all places.  In my defense, it was completely unavoidable and I was by no means alone at the time. 

The day started out just fine, compared to the past week which consisted of me being more or less a shut-in.  I'd had enough of it, so I finally decided to venture out further than the Hanged Man to do a bit of work.  

The morning had been pretty good to me, money-wise.  I was able to make a few coins running some messages between vendors and a few of the estates in Hightown.  Using that logic, I basically had the best excuse to call it a day and run after Hawke when I happened to see him leaving his estate at around noon.

“Yo, Hawke!”

He greeted me with a smile, even though he looked a little tired.

“Fitz.  Merrill let you out of the house?  I thought you were grounded.”

He chuckled at the look I gave him and began walking again, not objecting when I followed which I took as a good sign.  If he was about to do something nefarious or illegal with his hoodlum friends, he’d be sure to tell me to get lost.

We did that idle chat thing, where I excitedly alluded to the money I’d just made (I was smart enough not to announce to all the pickpockets in the area that I’d currently just made bank) and Hawke grinned, congratulating me.  In turn, Hawke told me about the brilliant lunch he’d just had and told me his mother expected me to attend for dinner sometime soon.  Not going to lie, but that made me feel giddy.  Hawke’s mom wasn’t as fond of the others in Hawke’s gang as she was of me; she basically doted on me when I was over.  I’d take any chance to leave Hawke’s place with a basket of food again.

After some turns, and light-hearted teasing between the two of us, we ended up at the Hanged Man.  Big surprise there.

Varric and Isabela had already staked out a table; the usual one.  They waved us over immediately with wide grins (specifically in Isabela’s case). 

I sat down next to Varric, giving him a slightly awkward smile which he simply replied with a return smile and a slight nod.  I had already apologized to him, but I still felt bad.  I felt like a child who had pulled a temper tantrum in front of a favorite uncle.

Pushing a mug of something towards me, Isabela called for my attention from across the table, “It’s been so long, kitten! Are you going to play cards with us?” I just shrugged and inspected the mug she’d pushed towards me.  Predictably, it was alcohol.  My nose twitched at the smell, but I still pulled it closer to me when it looked like Hawke was going to take it away from me.  He didn’t try again, only gave me a look.  In the next moment he was addressing Isabela.

“Nice to see you’re still with us, when we’re at the tavern, at least.” Hawke spoke directly to her in a dry tone and a raised eyebrow.

We were all looking at her now, though I think I was the only one who had no clue what Hawke’s pointed comment was about.  Isabela played it off great; all she did was laugh and wrap her arm around Hawke, before telling him, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re still upset with me for ditching you this morning? Don’t be such a great baby.”

Hawke immediately leapt to defend himself, “Hey! Am not! Why don’t _you_ go into the Qunari compound by yourself and see how you like it.”

“Oh, hush, sweetness.  You act like your warriors weren’t there too.”

“Yeah…but you level them out.” Hawke seemed to grimace at being left alone with Aveline and Fenris, which made all of us snicker.  The seriousness was probably too much for Hawke to handle, not to mention the lack of joking. 

Fenris joined a few minutes later; claiming the seat that was right next to me, at the head of the table.  He grabbed up the mug I had left unattended (and completely ignored my weak protests).

“When do we leave for the Coterie?”

I raised my eyebrows.  Hawke waved his hand, busy dealing out some cards between the four of them.  Thankfully, he skipped over me when I shook my head. 

“Eh, we’ve got time – oh, hey! Varric, did you hear the one about ––” Hawke delved into a rather raunchy joke about a dock worker, a nug, and an entire faction of Coterie members, which I tried to unhear.

~

We sat there for _ages_.  I swear, these people could drink and gamble 24/7 if given the chance and I could barely keep my head up during a simple card game.  I also didn’t get a second chance at the ale, which I suspect was Hawke subtle doing.  He could be a huge mother sometimes.

I was struggling to keep my eyes open, when I noticed something off out of the corner of my eye.  Eyes still half-lidded, I leant my head ever so slightly to the left and, sure enough, there was something there.  Or, rather, a some _one_.

The figure at the table right next to the bar, next to the entrance.  They had a hood on so I couldn’t make out any facial features outside of a prominent jawline that was ruddy and covered with dust and dirt.  Their clothes were dark and also dirty, which in itself wasn’t that uncommon for Lowtown.  The uncommon bit, the one that unsettled me, was the way they were staring straight at me. 

Even though I couldn’t make out anything above the mouth, I could tell we’d made direct eye-contact.  I pretended to stretch in my seat, returning my attention to the table smoothly.  I looked at Varric to see if he noticed the person too, but he wasn’t giving any indication. 

This was a bit of a predicament.  I couldn’t leave the tavern, which I had been contemplating doing for a while now.  But, eventually, Hawke and accompaniment would be leaving in search of the Coterie.  I could really only see myself tagging along, though I knew Hawke and probably the others would object to.

Before I was ready, the gambling and drinking stopped.  Determinedly not looking back at the dark figure, I pulled together all the focus I had and pooled it into fighting for a space in Hawke’s little journey.

I hopped up along with them and followed them to the door.  I couldn’t tell if my watcher followed; my senses were sort of going haywire at the moment, with all my mind focused on how to get Hawke to let me come along, so I was stretched pretty thin as it was. 

It wasn’t until we passed the turn for the alienage, when Hawke turned to bid me good-bye, that he realized I wasn’t even going that way.  He halted, making me stumble in order to keep from running into him.  He steadied me, and said, “Um. Where do you think you’re going?”

I tilted my head slightly so to look him in the eyes. “I wanna come with.”

It was kind of funny, the way his eyes bulged a little when I said that.  He looked around at the others, all over-exaggerated and dramatic like.  Finally, with humor, he announced, “I’m sorry, come again? Did you just ask to come intimidate a Coterie thug with me? In Darktown? At. Night? With emphasis on the ‘Coterie’, ‘Darktown’, and ‘at night’ bits.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Hawke guffawed and turned to the others for help. “Please tell him he’s insane.” Fenris complied and leaned in.

“Go home.” He told me sternly.  His stern face was basically just a slightly angrier look than he normally wore, which did in fact scare me a little bit.  Hawke made a motion as if to signify ‘close enough’, but I wasn’t about to leave it at that.

“Come on, you said it wasn’t gonna be too dangerous.  All you’re doin’ is askin’ questions!”

He narrowed his eyes at me, “What’s wrong?”

Before an awkward silence could ensue, I went on, “This is the perfect chance! All the time you’ve spent teachin’ me to fight, I should at least get to go with you on your adventures–” Hawke intervened with a “This most certainly is _not_ an adventure!” but I kept going, “I even brought the dagger you gave me!”

I pulled out the small dueling dagger he’d given to me after one of our training sessions a while ago.  Since receiving that second letter, I never left the house without it.  It hid quite nicely under my puffy winter coat, which thankfully the weather permitted me to wear regularly again. 

Hawke paused. “You’ve been carrying that this entire time?”

Isabela cut in, surprisingly, “Oh, you didn’t notice? The hideous…thing he insists on wearing hides it quite neatly but he still walks like he’s not used to the added weight.” She waggled her eyebrows at me with a little smirk. “Hawke, let the poor dear tag along.  Who are you to say what he does?”

“Yeah, Hawke, what she said!”

Hawke looked outraged, “Last time I checked, _I’m_ in charge here! That’s why!”

“No, Hawke, you’re just coddling him.” I was a bit surprised Varric even said anything.  Especially against Hawke. I watched them exchange significant looks; the ones that meant they’re having intense conversations via complex mind waves.  Or something like that.

Hawke gave in, “Fine! But, you–” He pointed a finger at me. “stay within my sight at all times, or so help me–”

“Yes, _mother_ ,” I quickly interrupted, rolling my eyes at his theatrics.

He still held his gaze to make sure the message got through.  The next moment he was striding away purposely.  It was actually more like stomping away, but whatever.  Isabela and Fenris wasted no time in following.

“Come on, Scholar.  You won this round.” Varric pushed me in front of him and he brought up the rear of our little gang.

I grinned, what an extremely satisfying sentence to hear.

My spirits were only slightly dampened when I chanced a glance behind us and saw a dark figure turning the other way.  However, I pushed it from my mind.  Not counting the visit to the Dalish, this would be the first _real_ mission I accompanied Hawke on, with a weapon and everything! 

Even if he didn’t like it, and even though I wasn’t exactly the medieval warrior type, I still felt a certain amount of excitement at the prospect of joining in on one of the little quests these guys always seemed to go on.  It also helped that I’d literally just escaped a freaking kidnapping attempt by basically annoying Hawke into inadvertently (and unknowingly) saving me.  Heh, he'd get a kick out of that.  You know, once he got over the part about me being targeted by kidnappers and all that.

In any case, my focus would remain on the task at hand, I told myself.  Hawke wasn't going to regret this.


	15. Finding Javaris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a fight scene, people get stabbed and stuff. I dont think its too graphic but here's a heads up anyway

It wasn’t quite dark when we had left the Hanged Man, though it would be soon.  It also wasn’t late enough that only thugs and the like remained on the streets, which was very good because it meant we made the trip from Lowtown to Darktown quite easily.  Walking around in Darktown with these guys is awesome because none of the pickpockets even tried to pull one over on any of us.  I know I sure as hell wouldn’t; these guys don’t do concealed carry and Varric’s crossbow is absolutely savage looking (not mentioning Hawke’s biceps alone).

After maybe a few minutes of walking casually, Varric pointed Hawke in the direction of the Coterie member, who looked to be around his age and talked with a rough accent.  She was calling out to passersby, attempting to sell the possessions of some guy named Javaris.  She stopped when she saw us approaching, watching us warily. Hawke didn’t give her any time to get more defensive.

“I see you’re selling all of Javaris’ worldly possessions, good for you.  Any idea where he might be?”

It took a few back and forths before she finally admitted where she personally thought the guy went.  Apparently there are some caves that are connected to Darktown that could've served as the perfect escape route for Javaris.  Who would have even guessed it.

I really had no idea who this Javaris guy is, or what the hell he’d done but sounds pretty dumb in all.  As far as first missions go, this one was starting off kind of lame.  Hawke didn’t have to threaten or pay off the Coterie for this information or anything.  We were moving on not even ten minutes later.

We only had to walk a yard or so until we hit the entrance to the cave.  The entrance was a dank mineshaft that Hawke graciously helped me down (he didn’t even try to get me to go back).  The cave itself was…interesting.  I’d never been in a cave before, and it’s kind of weird to think of one being connected to a city.  There were a series of worn-out, rickety wooden steps that brought us lower and lower into the cave, presumably following in the path of Javaris. 

It was going well, it really was.  But then we hit the last of the staircases and all hell broke loose. 

At first, I think I counted five, maybe six dwarfs in full armor before it all got too crazy.  They kept coming, and Hawke and co kept annihilating them and, oh my god, was it a freaking sight to see.  Isabela, Hawke, and Fenris were all a flurry of running, jumping, and various stabbing techniques that really made me realize how utterly unskilled I was compared to them. 

I stayed on the outskirts of the battle, next to Varric, who I’m sure was watching over me in Hawke’s stead.  Only one dwarf got close enough for me to fight but all I got to do send him to the ground with a shove since one of Varric’s arrows was already lodged in the guy’s throat.  I shot Varric an unimpressed look, which he winked at.

When the fight was over, everybody looted the bodies.  Even though I didn’t actually contribute to the resounding win, they let me keep the one silver I found in the pocket of the dwarf I pushed over. 

“Nice job.” Hawke patted me on the shoulder, sounding completely sincere.  I gave him a weird look.

“All I did was push his dying body away from me.”

“Yes,” Isabela joined in. “but you didn’t get stabbed while doing it. So, impressive.”

“Haha.”

~

I personally thought it was extremely easy to get turned around down here, with all the twists and bends and hidden rooms.  Honestly, everything looked the same to me.  Luckily, Hawke seemed to always know where to go so all I had to do was follow. 

These guys were efficient.  Not one body or chest was left unlooted.  Some of the chests held mundane things, but others were actually pretty interesting (and loaded).  I got to add a few more coins to my pockets before we finally left the dank cavern. 

We were set upon basically right after we finally got to see the dying light of the evening for the second time that night.  These guys were even more vicious than the last bout of mercenaries.  They came from nearly all sides; left, right, and in front of us.  I actually had to fight this time, too. 

I don’t know how many of them were diverted from me thanks to my mother-bear squad, but, once the battle really got going, there wasn’t much room to be looking out for anyone but oneself.  So when one mercenary started coming at me, no one really noticed.  Except for me that is, and thank god I did.

He carried a single dagger that was only slightly larger than mine and he grinned all grotesque-like at me when he tried to bring it down across my shoulder (it was all very cliché and gross).  I dodged easily and managed to kick his shin which made him stumble.  I body checked him to make him even more off-balance; it was a move I learned when I was a kid and thought I wanted to be a hockey player when I grew up.  I pulled away quickly to avoid an elbow aimed for my face and I tried to retaliate by slashing at him with my dagger.  I only made contact with part of his arm, though apparently it was enough to make him grunt. 

I probably would’ve died eventually, if no one had interfered with that fight.  As it was, one of Varric’s arrows saved the day by digging itself into the guy’s hand.  The hand holding the dagger that was currently drenched in my blood. 

I don’t remember what happened, but at some point before Varric’s arrow, white hot pain began pulsing on my left side.  Belatedly, I realized it was coming from my left arm, around my bicep, so I got rid of the thoughts that were crying about being gutted. 

Okay, so basically being stabbed hurts a lot.  It hurts even worse when I don’t have time to moan about, because that guy, arrow in hand and all, was evidently _not_ going down until he brought me with him.  He got in close and wrapped his good arm around my throat in a badly formed chokehold.  In my panic, I made it difficult for him to really get a good hold which made it that much easier for me to tilt my head down and bite down on the meat of his forearm that was pressing into my throat. 

The guy actually yelled and I had blood in my mouth (it was disgusting) but he did push me away.  I fell face-first in the dirt, inches away from the dagger I didn’t even remember dropping.  I grabbed it, probably just in time too, and shot up to face my adversary once more.  He was coming for me again, this time angrier than all hell and with his own dagger clenched awkwardly in his uninjured hand.  We met each other half way; I must've moved more quickly than he’d anticipated because my dagger went through his stomach before he’d even truly aimed his at me. 

I wrenched up, brutally, and pulled out quickly.  I took shaky steps back as he fell forward, almost making me fall to the ground all over again.  I didn’t watch the man die and even stick around to make sure he did; I got the hell away. 

Varric, like a shining beacon, was the first good guy my eyes locked onto.  The fight was dying down, I only half realized it at the time, and so I made it to his side without incurring any further damage to myself.  Out of breath, I almost grinned at Varric but I was suddenly assaulted by images of me smiling with blood around my mouth and, let me tell you, that is not something I want to see.  Varric looked shocked.

“Damn, Scholar, what exactly have you been doing?”

“I’m okay.” My voice was rough, the guy couldn’t get a good hold but he certainly tried to put power into that chokehold.  My throat was on fire, just like my arm.

Suddenly remembering that I’d been stabbed, I looked down.

The arm of my jacket was torn and seeping with blood.  I think that’s what I was most concerned about, oddly enough.  I freaking loved that coat like you wouldn't believe.

“Oh shit,” Varric muttered, inspecting my arm as he shouldered his crossbow.  The fight was finally over; we could see Hawke and the others surrounding a man down a slope a few yards away. 

“Hawke is going to have a right nice fit over this.” Varric helped me take off my jacket carefully.  Bandages materialized in his hands and he deftly wrapped them about my arm to still the bleeding.  The he tried to hand me a potion.

“No, thanks.” I said, waving it away.  I tried to focus on wiping my face clean of blood, which was, of course, hard to do without any water, but Varric was insistent.

“It’ll help you heal faster, it’s good for you.” He told me in a soothing voice, as if I was being unreasonable.  Maybe I was, at least in his perspective.  Me, however, I knew it would be a waste of a potion.  I refused him again.

“The cut’s not deep.  I’ll be good, no worries.” With that, I started heading in the direction of Hawke and the others, with Varric grumbling behind me.  He did drop it though.

Hawke was just finishing interrogating the man, who was actually a dwarf and the one we were looking for at that.  Hawke turned away from Javaris, looking annoyed and weary.

“Ah, and he is innocent of this scheme.  So now we’re looking for a crazy elf. Predictable.”  He rolled his eyes, walking up to us with Isabela and Fenris flanking him.  I tried rub more blood from my mouth, tightening my hold on my jacket which I had slung over the crook of my uninjured arm.    

When he got close enough, his eyes ran down me in a cursory fashion, obviously looking for any injuries.  I stiffened and waited for him to freak out, which he did not disappoint.

“What happened?” Hawke strode towards me, quicker than before.  He caught me by the shoulders and leaned over to look at my arm. 

Isabela peered over his shoulder and, catching sight of my face, exclaimed, “Oh, kitten!  You look absolutely vicious! And you survived!”

I grinned at her, trying to ignore Hawke’s mothering.  It’d be so much easier if he responded like Isabela, but as Hawke’s de-facto younger sibling I knew I had to endure his overprotective nature. 

“Varric, what is this.” He basically stated, voice flat.

Varric sighed, “Just a little stab wound, Hawke.  He’s going to be fine, but he’s refusing the health potion.”

“Fitz, take the bloody potion.”

“No.” I shrugged off his hands and tried to move closer to Isabela, like she would protect me or something from my pushy nursemaids.  No such luck.

~

Hawke practically dragged me, figuratively kicking and screaming, to Anders clinic.  I was pretty close to panicking and booking it, contracted kidnappers be damned.  I repeatedly told Hawke that under no condition would I let Anders heal me with magic.  I was convinced that he was just lying when he’d say, “Yes, I _know_ , that’s why he’s just going to _look_ at it and _clean_ it.”

Isabela and Fenris skipped out on the impromptu Anders visit, unsurprisingly.  However, Varric was drawing immense amusement from watching me and Hawke bicker, so he gladly joined us. 

Anders’ was closed for business but Hawke banged on the door anyways.  I tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on me the whole time.  The feeling of being watched was typical for Darktown, especially at night, but with the added pressure of those-who-shall-not-be-named I was practically bugging even with the overwhelming protection I currently had.  Thankfully, Anders opened the door quickly.

He berated Hawke for the violence with which he attacked the poor door as we followed him over to the patient area.  Hawke sat me, and yes I mean physically pushed me, onto one of the beds and pointed at me.  
“This one,” He threw me a disapproving look, only half mockingly. “got himself stabbed. And, on top of that, he thinks he has the right to deny medical attention.”

Anders gathered his materials, while Hawke explained what happened.

“Oh good,” Anders began, settling down on a stool in front of me and reaching out for my arm. “so you took the unexperienced child into combat with mercenaries? Smart move, Hawke. Fitz, for crying out loud, give me your arm.”

“No magic.” I said stubbornly, not caring if I insulted him or not. 

He rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, I know. My evil mage hands will only be cleaning and possibly stitching."

“I didn’t call you evil.” I muttered, relinquishing my arm to his care.

“Mhmm.” He didn’t sound too offended, maybe a bit disappointed at my feelings about magic, but he was gentle and carefully cleaned out my wound in any case.  He even cleaned the remaining blood off my face for me.

“Well, it will take a while to heal fully,” He leveled me with a stare. “And it will most likely be painful.”

I shrugged, only to wince when I moved my bum arm.

Anders scoffed, “Idiot.” He began putting his stuff away while Hawke and Varric laughed at me.

I side-eyed Hawke, glad that he seemed to have calmed down.  I could feel a healthy dose of sleepiness hit me as I lounged in the dim light of Anders home.  I let myself recline fully, until I was laying comfortably on the cot.  I must’ve been like that for at least a few minutes before someone addressed me again.

“Hey, come on, Fitz. Let’s go.” Hawke stood over me, one hand pressed gently on the top of my head,

“I’ll sleep here…” I mumbled, trailing off as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Hawke ruffled my hair and began to pull me up from the cot. “I think you can make it to Hightown before you crash.  Up you get.”

“Wa…Hightown?...Why?” Finally standing, I leaned against Hawke’s sturdy frame and tried to blink myself awake.

“You can spend the night at my place.  That way you can join us for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Oh, that sounds really nice, I thought.  I called out a thanks to Anders, and we all bid him goodnight before trooping out into Darktown for the last time, on that day at least.


	16. MFing Stalkers

Hawke kept good on his word.  His servant, Bodahn, made us a breakfast like nobody’s business.  He and Hawke’s mother fawned over my battle wound a little bit; Leandra actually berated Hawke for it, which surprised me.  I tried to defend Hawke and tell her that he didn’t want me there in the first place but she just waved me away.  Hawke didn’t seem too put out by though, so I let it go. 

I was carefully lacing up my boots when Aveline showed up.  My arm was shooting little bolts of pain every time I so much as shifted it.  I definitely would not be running errand today; not only was it too late in the day to find work, but, like, the pain would be _awful_.  So, I figured I’d hang out with Merrill.  Or find someone else within the alienage to chill with. 

As I was thinking about what Sovin and Garrus were up to these days (I have to admit, I haven’t seen all that much of them lately outside of a few ‘hi and byes’), Aveline strode into the room like a woman on a mission.  Which, you know, was probably always true in her case.  Hawke greeted her enthusiastically, and maybe a little mockingly.

“Aveline! Darling! It’s been so long, I barely recognized you!”

“Oh, stuff it, Hawke.  You have a moment? Hello, Fitz.” She nodded in my direction.

I sent her a lazy salute with my good arm and went back to my boots.  When I realized they weren’t talking, I looked back up and caught Aveline making weird arm motions.  I finished my last lace, still watching them.

Hawke looked in my direction, “We’ve sensitive matters to discuss, Fitz, if you would kindly bugger off.  That’s what Aveline is trying to say.”  Aveline shot him a dry look but didn’t necessarily dispute it.

“Whatever.” As I stood, Hawke’s mother rushed in, joining us in the now slightly cramped foyer. 

“Oh, Maker,” Aveline huffed and then left us to stomp further into the mansion.  Hawke shrugged and waved me goodbye, which I returned.  Meanwhile, Leandra held out a huge coat to me.

“Uh, no thanks.”

She pressed it into my hands, making it so that I couldn’t refuse without tossing it to the ground.  “Please, Fitz, you can’t go out there without one.” I paused and looked around for my own jacket, momentarily forgetting about the damage it took yesterday.  When I remembered, a wave of sadness hit me hard.  That coat’s been with me since the start.

“Oh.” I put on the coat, with Leandra’s help, and tried not to be too obvious that I was close to tears over a ratty old jacket.  Leandra put her hand on my shoulder once we got the coat on me with little disturbance to my bad arm.  She smiled at me softly.

“I’m washing it now, sweetheart. It will probably take a few washes, but I’ll get it done.  And then I’ll mend the sleeve for you.”

“Oh! Really?” I blurted out without thinking. “I mean, thank you. So much.”

She patted my shoulder as she showed me to the front door. “Think nothing of it, dear.  Be careful, and I’ll send Garrett out when I’m done with your coat.”

“Thanks again! See ya!” I called out before intermingling with the usual flow of morning Hightown foot traffic. 

The news about my coat, as mundane as it sounded, put me in much higher spirits than I had been at Bodahn’s breakfast.  I decided to deviate from my previous plans for the day.  I hadn’t been to the Chantry for a while and I had a good few hours before I really had to think about returning home.

~

One thing I really liked about the Chantry was its calming atmosphere.  I’d never been all that interested in religion.  My dad, while he was Christian, didn’t do the whole church thing except for a few Christmas eves when I was still pretty young.  When I asked him about it, he told me he believed religion to be a private, personal thing that didn’t require anything but one’s heart.  So, in all honesty, the widespread popularity of the Andrastian religion and the sheer extravagance of the Chantry itself were all a bit overwhelming for me, especially in the beginning.  I’ve gotten used to it by now even though I’m still pretty ignorant about the whole religion thing.  I’ve picked up things here and there and the sisters keep trying to get me to read certain religious scripts (still not interested), but Kirkwall, and the alienage in particular, isn’t exactly a bastion for the those striving to live holy lives. 

Entering the Chantry after being away for so long felt almost nostalgic.  Some of my happiest memories of this place consisted of combing the many bookshelves, even if those memories were as frustrating as they were happy.  I remember finding it the first place in all of Kirkwall that didn’t care about my stupid ears and most of the Sisters were never anything but kind to me.

Before I’d even taken a few steps in, one of the Sisters huddled in a group not too far away waved at me.  I faltered, not altogether sure she was motioning to me, but it was confirmed when she broke away from her group and headed in my direction. 

Upon closer inspection, I realized she was one of the Sisters who always had a smile and a kind word for me, though I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me.  When she was at a respectable distance (where she speak in the appropriate low tones so as not to disturb anyone), she practically gushed at me.

“Ah, child, it’s been so long.  I was wondering what become of you!”

I stared a little, had I really become that much of a fixture in her life from my almost daily visits in the past?  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.  What with how dangerous this city is, she probably thought I’d either died of starvation or murder.  I smiled at her.

“I’ve been busy.”

She smiled down at me.  She was pretty tall and younger than many of the Sisters here.

“May I take it that you’ve returned for some more reading?” Her smile was kind and gentle, like my reading habits were endearing to her.  I decided to keep the conversation going by asking a question that had actually been on my mind for a while.

“I was planning on it.  Have you guys gotten any new books in, maybe?” Is that even a thing? I know this place isn’t technically a library, but surely with all the open bookshelves they occasionally get additions.

“Oh!  Actually, I think we’ve had some donations recently.  Come this way.”  She led me up the familiar staircase and to one of the corner nooks that I’d already combed through for useful material.  She looked through the shelves and mentioned under her breath, “I believe they’ve been scattered throughout this shelf…”

“I’ll be able to pick them out.” I smiled when she finally looked back at me, she seemed slightly embarrassed that she couldn’t immediately find them. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.  I’ll leave you to your reading then.” She nodded and headed back for the staircase.

Relieved that she hadn’t stayed to talk some more, I got down to business.  It took me a while to figure out which books were new; I had to leaf through a couple before I’d finally realize if I’d read them or not.  It definitely didn’t help that I had to do all of this one handed.

Looking around to make sure there was no one around, I put all the new books on the left side of one shelf and hoped no one screwed with them in the meantime.  There were really only a handful of books that looked promising, only about six remained after my culling.  After that, I took one book with me to a nearby armchair and finally got around to reading.

I didn’t get all that far.  The book I chose was pretty big, I figured it’d take me at least a few sittings depending on my time limits.  I was overly aware of my timeframe at the moment, and the pain in my arm made it a little hard to concentrate, so I couldn’t let myself get as deep in the book as I wanted.  I packed it up after a few hours; between my current predicament and the stare of a Sister a few paces away from me were not all that conducive for studying.  Oddly enough, I was pretty sure the Sister staring me down was the same from a few months ago.  She had light blonde hair that was pulled back tightly and an expression of vague distaste that made me feel uncomfortable.  When I looked back once I hit the staircase, I saw her picking up the book I had just place back on the shelf.  Creepy.

“You’re leaving already?” The Sister who greeted me earlier approached me as I walked across the Chantry hall. 

“Yeah…” I trailed off awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.  I didn’t exactly owe her an explanation.

She looked around for a second before stepping closer to me and handing me something small wrapped in a cloth.  When I felt the slight warmth, I knew it had to be some sort of pastry.  She winked at me with a small grin and told me to take care.  I smiled back at her and nodded my thanks.  I unwrapped it once I got outside and the sweet smell hit me.  I recognized it as one of the sweet loafs from an outrageously expensive bakery not too far from the Chantry and I marveled at my good luck.  I was genuinely excited to taste it, which I found not even a second later that it was just as heavenly as its aroma. 

~

My good fortune didn’t last long.  Half way across Hightown, I felt eyes on me and realized I was being followed.  I didn’t outright look, so I couldn’t necessarily tell if it was the same guy from the other night but the odds were pretty good that it was. 

This was going to _suck_.  Now I was going to have to run, probably disturb the stitches in my arm, and just generally create even more pain for myself.  I mean, if I break my stitches, Anders might strangle me himself.

It wasn’t even close to being dark out, and the streets were still flowing with people.  My stalker didn’t seem to care because I was overwhelmingly aware of the fact that they were actually _gaining_ on me rather than sticking to the sidelines.

So I booked it.

I flat out ran down the streets of Hightown, forcing my stalker to either make a scene by chasing me in broad daylight or basically give up.  Unfortunately, they weren’t dumb because the next moment, I heard the cry of ‘thief!’ fill the air.  So, not only was my stalker gaining on me, but I had to dodge people trying to catch me as well.

One person narrowly missed grabbing my injured arm and I almost cried out as I was forced to swerve hard in order to avoid it.  I ran zigzag until I could find a nice alley to slip down.  When I could finally take proper inventory of my surroundings without worrying about immediate capture, I realized I wasn’t that far from Fenris’ mansion.  Actually, I was pretty much a stone’s throw away from the mansion thanks to the random alleyway I ducked into.

Feeling my luck come back a little, I ran as fast as I could down the alley.  Someone was still pursuing me, most likely my lying stalker, but thankfully it was only them and not a mob.

I threw my head back to gauge their distance.  They were still pretty far away, but it was clear that they were running _hard_ and it wasn’t like they were slow.  Nope, they were surely gaining. 

I left the alley, turned sharply and headed towards Fenris’ house hoping to whatever god was out there that he was home.  Or that my stalker knew the rumors about the mansion and would know better than to follow me.  Nobody wants to encounter an angry, lethally trained elf if they knew what was good for them.

As it turned out, Fenris was heading towards his home _literally_ at the same time as I was.  I changed gears and headed towards him, shouting his name loudly enough that it bounced off the high estate walls that surrounded us.  He whipped his head in my direction, immediately assuming a battle position.  His eyes glossed over me to zone in on my pursuer.

I reached him, _finally_ , and tried to control my breathing even though I was nearly dead on my feet. He automatically positioned himself in front of me, his stance protective and threatening to my stalker who was slowing down, but not turning tail.  I looked around Fenris’ shoulder, finally back to standing up straight rather than resting on my knees, and saw my pursuer come to a halt a few yards away from us.  The asshole was clearly contemplating fighting Fenris, god help him. 

“Take another step and I shall not hold back.” To back up his words, Fenris pointed his already unsheathed sword at my pursuer.

Thankfully, the guy decided to be smart.  He backed away slowly and then ran back in the direction we’d come.  Fenris turned to stare at me.

“Thanks,” I breathed. I almost smiled but then he ruined it.

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothin’! He was trying to mug me!”

Fenris stared at me for another few second. “And he remains here still.” Fenris grabbed my shoulder, thankfully not the one connected to my bum arm, and pulled me along with him as he entered his mansion.

“Ah…he didn’t leave?”

Fenris threw me an irritated glance as he kicked the door shut. “That is what I said.”

“Fuck.”

I stood in the hallway, wondering if I was really going to be forced to have a sleep over with _Fenris_ of all people.  I realized he’d just left me dumbly standing around in the foyer and hastened to follow my grumpy savoir. 

I found him upstairs in the ruined bedroom, opening a bottle of wine.  I sat myself down on the bench in front of the fireplace and prepared myself for a long night.  With Fenris, who definitely did not like me whatsoever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :D


	17. AH, Fun...

“So…how’s it goin’?”

Fenris didn’t even look up from his book, which I don’t think he was so much as reading as just glaring at it.  It’d been like that for the last ten minutes since I sat down.  I had already inspected my wound and, while it was about ten times more painful than before I’d been forced to sprint across Hightown, I found that by some luck the stitches had remained intact. 

“Uh…”  Still nothing.  I decided to let him be for a little while.  I went about inspecting his stuff instead.  There were some shards of glass by the wall next to the fireplace and various items strewn around the room; most of which I knew didn’t belong to Fenris’ but to the guy who actually abandoned this mansion.  I poked around in the nearest pile of things, with my foot for safety reasons, and actually found something cool.  I knelt down and picked up what looked like a little charm-necklace.  It was smooth and small; it fit in the palm of my hand, easily enough that I could form a fist around it.  Up close it resembled a dog, probably mabari, but from far away it just looked vaguely animal-shaped.  When I held it up in the firelight, it glinted which made me wonder what type of rock it was made out of.  “Hey, Fenris, can I–”

“Would you kindly shut up?”  He finally snapped.  He glared at me instead of his book this time.

“Can I keep this?” I held up the charm by its leather cord and waved it a little.

“I don’t care.  Be silent if you are to stay here.” He turned his attention back to his book, but now that I’d gotten him talking I wasn’t about to let it go.

“Whatcha readin’?” I walked over to him, pocketing the charm.

He sighed, a bit overdramatically if you asked me.  He let the book fall, okay it was more like he threw it to the side where it hit the floor with a sharp thud.  I cringed involuntarily, but went over to the book anyways.  When I picked it up I found it to be a book of children’s tales.  I hadn’t read any Thedosian children’s stories, but I could tell by the picture on the cover which had a bunch of children sitting in a circle around an old man.

Fenris watched me; he was still reclined on the messy bed, as he had been since he’d gotten the bottle of wine open (which was conveniently placed on the floor next to the bed, half empty).

Since I wasn’t about to comment on his drinking habits, I decided to mention the book.

“Children tales?  Anything interesting?”

He scowled. “Don’t mock me.  Hawke is teaching me to read.  He said that was easiest to begin with.”

“Oh.” I paused.  I hadn’t realized Fenris couldn’t read.  Hawke never said anything about it or that he was helping Fenris learn.  “Were you having trouble, then?”

Hoping that wasn’t the wrong thing to say, I waited for his answer.  He didn’t answer, though.  He just gave me a blank look like he thought I was an idiot.  Which, to be fair, I had just stated the obvious.  For the second time that afternoon…

“I can help you?”  I unintentionally phrased it like a question, my voice kind of awkward sounding even to my own ears.

Fenris sat up, scowling at me some more. “No.”

“Oh.” I put the book back down.  Straightening up, I tried to keep the conversation going anyways, “Well, if you change your mind…I’ll totally help you.  I read so much, like you wouldn’t believe.”

When I replayed my words, I froze a little.  Mortified that he may take that as bragging, I jumped to continue before he could say something (even though he didn’t look like he was about to).

“UH, I mean, once you get the hang of it, you’ll be a pro in no time!  I’m just tryin’ to say, you know, Hawke gets busy, yeah?  So, when he’s, like, not around, I wouldn’t mind helpin’ you out!” I ended with a wide grin, hoping that wasn’t too butchered.

He was just sitting there, giving me a weird look.  Finally, he spoke, “You speak very oddly sometimes.”

I forced myself to keep grinning as I replied, “Yeah.”

And then we were just staring at each other.  Slightly distressed, I attempted to put my hands in my pockets only to feel air as I remembered that my usual coat was in fact not on my person but being repaired a few blocks away.  Fenris raised his eyes to the ceiling like I was ridiculous.  I took that as a sign that he totally just saw me do that.

He wiped a hand across his face and leaned over to pick up the bottle of wine.  Standing, he took a large swig which took care of everything but a few last dredges in the bottle.  I ogled, that was one part worrying and one part impressive. 

“I’m taking you to Hawke’s.”  He began walking away.

“Wait! But, what about that guy?” I hurried after him since he didn’t stop at my words.

He shrugged, looking aside at me briefly. “If he chooses to forfeit his life, that is his problem.”

I stared. “You can’t just kill a guy outside of the house you don’t even _own_!” 

“It’ll be a few blocks away at least.  Aveline will take care of it.”

We were near the front door, I continued following him despite my reservations.  “I don’t think Aveline will be very happy to hear you say that.”

He just shrugged again.

Once outside, I could feel myself tense up almost immediately.  I looked around, unintentionally walking closer to Fenris than necessary.  When I looked up at him, he was just turning his head away.  He told me to hurry up.

~

“Are we being followed?”

“Be quiet.” Which meant 'yes, now shut the hell up'.  Got it.

Hawke’s place was just a few blocks down when we suddenly heard a scuffle break out from behind us.  The scuffle didn’t last long, in fact it was pretty much over as soon as we had whipped around to look.  Fenris had pushed me behind him and was standing guard as we took in the scene laid out before us.

It was Hawke, with his forearm pressed against the throat of a middle-aged man.  It was weird to finally see the face of my stalker; it was nondescript, the type you wouldn’t look at twice on the streets.  He had blood dripping from his nose and his fists were wrapped around Hawke’s arm, still attempting to dislodge the pressure that was keeping him pressed firmly to the brick wall of the estate we had been passing by.  It was a completely useless effort, but kudos to him for trying.  I belatedly realized that Varric was also a few paces away, though he didn’t have his crossbow drawn or anything. 

“Imagine my surprise,” Hawke began, looking back at us as if this were all a very casual affair.  “when after I spent nearly twenty minutes trying to track you down, I find you not in Lowtown but still in Hightown. And in trouble of some sort.  This is becoming routine, Fitz.”

“Hey, Fenris is here, too.  It coulda been him in trouble.”

I ignored Fenris’ scowl/scoff combo, and tried to keep the situation light.  It made me nervous, wondering if my stalker was going to say anything, which would be so terribly horrible I’d probably cry.

Hawke raised his eyebrows at me. “While true, I have this feeling – let’s call it intuition, or even common sense – that this comes backs to you.”

Varric snorted, “It would be pretty interesting to know how you got a mercenary on your tail, Scholar.”

Hawke’s look got a little blanker at that and he put more force behind his hold because the supposed merc let out a wheeze in protest. 

“Huh, that’s cool, Varric. But I think this guy’s a mugger.” I let out an inappropriate laugh, trying my hardest to remain chill but, in all honesty, I was getting panicky.  Okay, a mercenary?  How the hell did this dwarf know that? And, damn, I felt a little important that Marcella had apparently hired a merc to take care of me instead of paying some local thug to bash me in the head and drag me to the sewers. 

My words were ignored, probably for the best, as Hawke turned his attention to the mercenary himself.  “Who hired you, and why?”

Hawke loosened his hold, just barely, and waited for the guy to reply.  When he didn’t get one he continued, “You know, it’d be a shame to have to force answers out of you.  That’s not really my style, but I also can’t have mercenaries chasing after my friends.  You understand?”

The guy remained silent.  Just stared at Hawke like an imbecile.  I was frozen, because I fully expected to see Hawke lay into this guy right then and there.  Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the way you look at it, just as Hawke swung his free arm back to deliver a nasty punch, the guy managed to finally push him off and wiggle his way free.  The guy dug into his pockets and, before anyone could do anything, dropped something that landed with a loud crash of glass to the ground.  Smoke rose up and covered the immediate area, and then I was practically tackled to the ground.  I only knew it was friendly because the hold became gentle after the initial jolt of hurried contact, and I realized it was Hawke because he made sure to breath a quick, “It’s just me, only me.” as he pulled me in what he thought was the safest direction.  Sounds of a fight ensued to our left and I heard someone cry out.  Knowing full well that none of my friends sounded like that, I could only surmise that my stalker had sorely underestimated his chances at escape. 

It took a few minutes for the smoke to completely evaporate and when it did, we saw the crumpled up figure of my stalker lying, unmoving, on the pavement.  Fenris was pulling his sword out of the guy’s back when Hawke finally deemed it safe for us to rejoin the others.

“Fenris! I can’t get answers from a dead man!”

“I thought it safer than allowing him to escape.”

Hawke grumbled a little bit.  He let go of me in order to crouch down and check the guy’s pockets.

“Next time, could you at least aim to maim, rather than kill?”

“I will keep that in mind, Hawke.” Came the dry reply.

Hawke pulled out a full coin purse, but little else.  “Well, I suppose this could be evidence that he was indeed hired to take you out, Fitz.” His tone was light, but obviously worried.  He looked to Varric as he stood up, his eyebrows pulled together.

Varric shrugged at the unspoken question.  “I only know he’s a mercenary because of the scar on his hand.  It’s a brand.” He paused to study the guy’s face some more. “I’ll ask around.”

“Come on guys, you really think someone would pay to off me?  I don’t piss off that many people.”

Dubious looks came from all around, which was kind of insulting and I made it a point to tell them so. 

“Seriously, I don’t know what’s goin’ on.  I jus’ thought I was bout to be mugged.”  My panic was showing through, and curse me, but I was relieved when Hawke interpreted it the wrong way.  Instead of realizing that my panic stemmed from the danger of being found out, Hawke took it as me fretting over the fact that someone was out to ‘kill’ me. 

“Come on, Fitz, let’s get you home.  Merrill was worried when you didn’t come home for dinner.  She’s waiting for you at my house.”

We parted ways with Fenris, I mumbled a small ‘thank you’ to which he actually gave me a nod of acknowledgement, and the three of us made the few blocks to Hawke’s place in no time.  Upon arrival, I was promptly jumped by a stressed-looking Merrill.  I, of course, immediately felt guilty for causing her to worry and was suddenly aware of the fact that she must’ve been worried ever since I didn’t come home last night.  Although, on second thought, Hawke probably contacted her somehow without me even noticing. 

“Fitz!” Merrill was aghast when she saw us stumble in. “How could you be so careless when there’s a murderer on the loose! And you’re already injured as it is!”

I kind of stared at her.  Was she aware of the city we lived in?  Before I could ask her which murderer, Varric cut in.

“Daisy, our Scholar doesn’t exactly fit the description for that case.  You don’t have to worry about him on that front.” He then explained more about what had just went down, though that part didn’t do much to sooth her nerves.

“A mercenary? For Fitz? Oh, dear…” She wrung her hands out, nervously looking back at Hawke as if he might have a solution.

“Don’t worry, Merrill.  Varric and I are going to look into it.” Just then he sounded so weary all of a sudden.  I looked away so I wouldn’t have to see if his face looked the same.

I bit my lip, out of habit as well as out of stress.  I should tell them about Marcella, I knew I should’ve.  But I didn’t.

A lot went down in the days that followed, though none of it was good.  In fact, the only thing that I had to be happy about was the fact that Hawke and Varric didn’t immediately get a chance to actually look into my case.  Additionally, Marcella seemed to have decided to back off for a while after one of her lackeys was found murdered in an alleyway.  However, it still remained that those days were dark and sad and I wish to hell none of it had ever happened.  Just for Hawke’s sake.


	18. The Other Side

It happened a week later.  My stalker issue seemed to have happened ages ago; like some weird, surreal dream.  Of course, Hawke didn’t really give me the chance to dwell on it.  He was pretty much everywhere I went and our training sessions got even more serious.  He made me practice defense (as well as offense) every day since he found out I had contracted thugs after me, even though there was no sign of anymore stalkers after the debacle with the first one.  Maybe it was too early to say, after all it’d only been a week, but looking back on it makes me positive that Marcella was just biding her time; waiting. 

Aveline did clean up our mess for us.  She wrung us out for it, but she got it cleared up without anybody suspecting the scary looking elf who was squatting in one of the abandoned mansions of Hightown. 

Essentially, by the end of the week we had pretty much completely moved on from the issue.  Or, at least, I had.  Varric and Hawke were probably still concerned about it, but I coped by putting it out of my mind now that the immediate threat was gone.  In any case, all of this was about to be shunted aside anyways; in the most grotesque way possible.

~

It was around midday and, like the last five days, I was on my way to Hawke’s place for some more of our daily sparring.  I was running late – I had to take a letter to the ass end of Lowtown – so I was currently trying to get as close to running as I could in the crowded streets.  It was a cold day, too.  I thanked my lucky stars I had my coat back, all in one piece (more or less).

I didn’t make it to Hawke’s place.  From behind, I heard a familiar voice call my name.  I turned to see Merrill waving me down.  It frightened me; I’d never seen Merrill look that sad and panicked, even in all the times when I’d done something stupid. 

I met her half-way, only minimally surprised when she threw her arms over my shoulders.  I had to practically bend over so she wouldn’t be literally hanging off me.  She also wasn’t making much sense, even though she was talking to me.

“Oh, Fitz! I’m so glad you’re okay!” Her grip became tighter, the force slightly jolting me.  She wasn’t weak, that’s for sure. “It’s just horrible…what happened…oh, Hawke.”

“What? What happened to Hawke?” My voice pitched awkwardly, going higher than intended.  I was spared the embarrassment and teasing because, obviously, it was not the time.  It was only when Merrill was peeled off of me that I realized Isabela was with us, too.  Her face was more closed off than Merrill’s blatant show of emotions, but it was definitely grim.  I repeated my question to her, urgency coloring my words.

“No, no,” She said, holding my shoulder. “Nothing happened to him.  It was his mother…” Isabela looked away.  I could tell she didn’t know how to proceed; it was weird to see her acting so awkwardly.

“Huh?” I looked between the two of them, taking in Isabela’s discomfort and Merrill’s tears.

“It was the murderer,” Merrill began, mopping her tears up with her scarf. “The one that Hawke’s been investigating.  He took Hawke’s mother last night. Oh, Fitz, we were probably just sitting down for dinner when Hawke was out looking for her.”

Isabela put an arm over Merrill’s shoulder when it looked like the elf was about to start crying again.

“Hush, kitten, it’s best you don’t think about it.” Merrill gave a sniff but didn’t break into tears this time.  Isabela picked up where Merrill left off.  She told me about the mage, the blood mage, who’d taken Hawke’s mother.  Isabela clearly left some things out, but I got the picture.  My throat went dry at her words and I had to close my eyes or else I’d come close to panicking just thinking about what happened.  I looked behind me, where I could just barely see the outline of Hawke’s mansion in the distance. 

“I was just headin’ over to see him…” I chewed on my lip, wondering what to do.  I wanted to be there for him, but, at the same time, I didn’t want to intrude.  God, he was probably a wreck.  Would he even want my condolences, so soon after it happened?  I had no clue how to approach this situation.  It was too heavy for me, in that I’d never dealt with something like this.  It was selfish, I knew that, but I really didn’t want to fuck this up worse by being an inconsiderate prick.

“He asked for you.” My expression must’ve been alarmed when I finally looked back at Isabela. “He’s at Varric’s now…he sent us to fetch you.”

“Oh.” I stood there dumbstruck for a moment before Merrill finally roused me.

“I’m sure it would mean a lot if you stayed with him, da'len.  I think you’re the only one he wants to see right now…”

I nodded, dumbly.  “Of course I’ll go. Uh, the Hanged Man, then?”

Merrill and Isabela followed me to the tavern but stopped short of going up the stairs to Varric’s room.  I did see Varric first thing, though.  He was sat at the table in the front room, looking at some papers with a weariness that hung it the air; mixing in well with the general sense of gloom that permeated the entire room.  Varric got up when he saw me, ushered me in with a silent nod which I responded by clumsily walking further into the room.  He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and left the room.  He shut the door softly after himself.

I found Hawke sitting on Varric’s bed, leaning with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.  I couldn’t see his face and he didn’t move, even though he must’ve known someone new was in the room with him.

It wasn’t until I said his name that he actually looked my way.  I was close, close enough to see the tear tracks that he must’ve gotten tired of wiping away.  He wasn’t crying now, but his eyes were red and it looked like he could barely keep them open.  His eyebrows were furrowed and the creases in his forehead stood out prominently even with the gore that remained on his face from whatever battle had ensued last night.  The tears had gotten rid of some of the blood and dirt, but he had clearly not done anything since returning from the pits of hell. 

I sat down on the bed, next to him.  He didn’t speak, just returned to sitting with his head cradled in his hands.  Dimly, I noticed that, with both of us sitting and him slumped over the way he was, I was the taller one.  I hesitated.  I wasted a moment dithering back and forth over what to do next, but then he made a noise that I never wanted to hear ever again. 

His shoulders wracked slightly with his sobs.  Hawke didn’t cry loudly or violently; it was controlled, if that makes sense.  Like he was busy trying _not_ to cry, but could only manage in containing the worst of it.  I stopped fussing after that and followed my gut.

I leaned in, throwing my arm around his broad shoulders, and attempted to maneuver it so that he would lean against me.  He got the message and, next thing I knew, his face was pressed against the back of my head and he was holding me like I was about to disappear.  I just let him, attempting to hold onto him as well, though my grip was significantly weaker and more awkward. 

I don’t know how long we sat there like that, but, at some point after the tears stopped flowing, I got him to ease up and recline back so that he was laying in the bed.  I sat next to him, with my back to the headboard, combing my fingers through his hair.  His head was level with my stomach, and he had one arm wrapped across my waist like I was an overgrown teddy bear. 

After I’d gotten him lying down, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.  I kept playing with his hair, trying to keep myself from crying.  There was something about the pain, and the sheer sadness, in the set of his face that was getting to me.  I busied myself with combing the blood-formed-knots out of his hair, not minding the gore since I was already dirtied from the hug.

When I thought about Hawke, as a person and as my friend, he inspired feelings of safety and affection.  Even through all the times when I was frustrated and mad at him, it didn’t change the fact that I knew I could always count on him.  That was the thing about Hawke.  For most of us, he fell into our lives like a happy accident and refused to leave.  He jumped into our lives like he was invested in the outcome; like it was for his own personal wellbeing that he bent over backwards helping us out with all the different ‘this’s and ‘that’s that plagued our lives. 

If it was up to him, he’d save the whole world ten times over if one of us asked him to.  Family was everything to him.  That’s why it hurt so bad to see him lose the only real family member he had left.  It wasn’t fair, but, then again, nothing ever is.

~

Hawke slept for a while.  Halfway through, Varric came in, followed by some people who brought in buckets of water.  They filled the metal tub that sat in a corner and left as quickly as they entered.  Varric wandered over to me.

“How long has he been sleeping?”

“A bit.”

Varric nodded, “He needs it. I’ll bring some food for you two.”

He didn’t stay after he brought back a few plates filled with food.  I wondered if everyone was congregated downstairs.  Most likely.

The scent of food must’ve gradually woken Hawke, because he started to stir not too long after Varric left the last time.  He rolled over, stretching as he went, and peered up at me from under an outstretched arm.  “Fitz?”

“Varric brought food.  And water.  For a bath.” _Cringe-worthy_ , I thought.

Hawke looked over at the table of food and the tub next to it.  “Oh.”

He washed off and I followed.  When we were blood and dirt-free, we started in on the assortment of food.  I don’t think either of us were particularly hungry, but Hawke at least forced down a few mouthfuls before pushing his plate away.  I saw the far-away look in his eyes from across the table.  I wanted desperately to make it go away.  I didn’t want to say sorry, but I wanted to say _something_. 

“When I was little, I ran away from home.” That immediately got his attention.  Hawke opened his mouth, but I kept going, “I was mad at my dad over something stupid…so I decided to teach him a lesson by leaving.  I grabbed my backpack and threw in whatever would fit.  I was just about to grab my bik– I mean, leave, when my dad comes out and he–” I have to pause to curb a laugh that bubbled up from just thinking about this memory.  I picked my words carefully when I started back up again, “He asks if I could wait to run away.  Told me there was a game he wanted to go to but he didn’t wanna go alone.”

“I take it you never got around to running away, then?” Hawke had on the slightest smile, which I took as a good sign.

I laughed. “I didn’t. I wanted to go to the game too.” It was a hockey game and I was eight and obsessed. “I told him I was gonna leave as soon as the game was over, so I brought my backpack full of crap with me.  Had so much fun I forgot I even wanted to run away.”

Hawke laughed with me.  It was real, completely unforced.  And it was all over the first dumb story I could think of. 

Pretty soon we were going back and forth.  Hawke told me about how his family had basically been on the run for the first fourteen years of his life but that his dad had this way of making a game out of it so that it didn’t feel so hard all the time.  I never noticed before this, that Hawke never spoke of his father all that much.  The way he spoke was fond and he looked a little less heartbroken as our conversation went on.

“What about your mother, Fitz? What was she like?”

I looked at him, a little wide-eyed, but answered anyways, “I don’t have one.”

Hawke looked confused, “Oh...I’m sor–”

“Ah, no, I didn’t mean–” I struggled with the words, eventually settling on, “She’s probably getting on fine. Somewhere. She, um, left when I was young.  Didn’t wanna be a parent, I guess.”

Hawke looked a little shocked, but accepted my explanation without pushing. “I see.  Then you’ve never had a mother, at all?”

“No, I suppose not.” I stared at him, he was waning again.  “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a mother…but I’ll be here, whenever you need me. Seriously.”

Hawke sent me a grin, and if it was a little watery, I pretended not to notice. 

~

The next few days were hard.  As were the days that came after.  I think it took months before Hawke truly began to get better.  He had his bad days still but he was remarkably good at moving on, though I'm not sure if that’s a good thing or not.  The only thing I could think of was that after it keeps happening, you kind of got used to losing people you care about.  It was a morbid thought, and I discarded it almost as soon as I thought it, but it was there all the same.

Whenever it seemed like Hawke was about to relapse, fall back into that bone-deep sadness, I tried to find a way to distract him.  Sometimes that worked, but sometimes it good enough to just sit with him and not say anything at all.  He blamed himself, and nothing anyone said could convince him otherwise. 

It might seem wrong to say, but I think this was the time that really solidified our bond.  Usually it was Hawke picking me back up and fixing me up, but this time I was the one patching Hawke up.  All I knew was that I wanted to be there for him, probably even going so far as to add a ‘forever’ into that thought process.  My secrets seemed to melt away, at least for a few months, and I didn’t even dwell on home as much anymore.  Hawke was home, as sappy as that sounds.  The memories I made with him and everyone else were replacing the ones I used to sorely miss.  I didn’t even realize when I began forgetting stuff.  It started out small and never seemed to be all that important anyways.  I was trying to live in the present, with Hawke and for Hawke, and for a while that was more important to me than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i gave myself a lot of hawke feels with this...  
> however!: thank you to everyone giving kudos and the wonderful comments :)


	19. Fight the Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write something funner, this is pretty much a filler chapter! I'm trying to build it up to something cuz I stupidly have the far off future all thought out and I'm dying to write it.  
> Again, thank you for comments/kudos! They mean a lot!

It was quite a while before everything started to get back to normal again, or as normal as it ever was in Thedas.  Hawke had his moments, of course, but by the time warmer weather began to return to us, he was cracking smiles easily and joking just like before.  We'd been spending more time together, and the same went for everyone else, too.  There would normally always be one of us at the mansion with him; for no reason aside from the extra company.  I could tell he didn't like staying in the estate by himself, even if he did have Bodahn and Sandal there as well.  Even still, I made it a habit to visit more often than before.  He was also still teaching me how to fight, and I was slowly getting better at using daggers though I couldn't seem to shake my natural clumsiness.  Additionally, we were now having dinner together all the time, whenever we weren't eating at the tavern (which we, admittedly, still spent most nights out of the week at).  

In all, everything was going okay.  I think I was happy.  I think everyone else was too, or were at least getting there.  

~

“Hey, look at that!”

“Oh my god.”

Sovin elbowed me roughly, before loudly yelling out “Run!” to the lot of us.

Elves scattered with little prompting after that one shout.  I joined in too, having seen the reason almost immediately after I was harshly elbowed in the side.

A small group of guards had popped up out of nowhere and they were striding in our direction, quite determinedly and not all that amused.  Clusters of elves weren’t an altogether uncommon sight at the docks.  However, when you add in the fact that there was some blatantly defaced public property and we were currently standing around it, we immediately became suspicious targets in the eyes of the guards.

I didn’t originally plan to start my day out with some Banksy-esque law-breaking.  I was actually pretty innocent in all this, before you factor in the whole ‘actively participating’ bit.  It was a normal morning, spent eating small on-the-go breakfast foods in the center of the alienage with some of the other elves.  Sovin and I had joined in late, walking right into a rather excitable conversation which Garrus was leading.  It just so turned out that they were talking about graffiti and its lack thereof in the docks.  When the others found out that I could write well, I was basically forced into joining (though I was all for it when I heard a rough explanation of what they were doing).  Poor Sovin tagged along even though he was terrified of getting caught.

The best thing about this plan was that we were going to do it in broad daylight.  If we had enough people, which we did, they’ll block out the sight of us painting the walls by looking just like your typical, everyday elf cluster.  Oh my god, and what we were writing.  So, the others, about three of them, drew this giant fist in red paint.  Ironically, it was very similar to the ‘fight the power’ symbol from back home, though it might’ve looked a bit different.  It was hard to tell.  Anyways, they wanted me to write something about the corruption of power or some shit like that.  I tried to think of the most famous saying from back home, actually struggling to recall anything beyond “fuck the system”.  But then, as soon as we hit the entrance to the docks, I was hit by a memory from what felt like forever ago.  Maybe it was because I was thinking about Scott and how much he would’ve loved this, but I was reminded of one night when we were just hanging out.  I was probably a sophomore, so we would’ve been friends for a year, or maybe it was two, by then.  It’s not that important.  He was taking a class about either philosophy or sociology at our local community college, which I can’t remember the name of for the life of me.  Anyways, he’s started guffawing over something he was reading and instantly demanded my attention.  He’d read the quote out to me, two times to make sure it stuck, and then wrote it down in his notebook.  I remembered this so strongly, probably because he actually went out and bought a t-shirt with the phrase on it.  He fucking wore it all the time and sometimes I did too.  In the back of my mind, I wondered what made me remember this seemingly random moment; a moment that wasn’t even all that significant or, you know, life-changing.  I guess that’s just how our brains work.

I don’t remember who wrote it originally, so I was totally ripping off of some old dead guy from Earth but I think he’d forgive me for the plagiarism if he knew my circumstances. 

Anyways, our new addition to the docks was pretty wicked.  We’d congregated around one of the multiple towers that overlook the wharfs.  We chose the only one that didn’t have a ship right next to it, for obvious reasons, and got right to work.  I was pretty shocked we managed to finish it, too.  We weren’t caught half-way (like I completely expected), though I was in the middle of brandishing the last letter in the quote before Sovin elbowed me, which sort of made that one letter look rather wonky.  Over all, it was a masterpiece.

The fist was drawn with wide, blocky lines which gave it that part-edgy and part-angry look.  I styled my lettering after the other’s work.  I wrote the quote with thick lines, which was really easy to do since my brush was also pretty thick.  The mornings were still pretty chilly, even though we were well into the third month, Drakonis, at this point, so I’d worn one of the scarfs Merrill had shoved at me when I’d left the house that morning.  This ended up being perfect, because I was able to hike it up and tie it around the lower half of my face.  Call me immature, but I got a huge kick out of imitating the old street artist stereotypes.  Even funnier, the other artists caught onto my act and did the same thing, though I’m sure they just meant to hide their identities in case we ran into guards. 

The words, “We hang the petty thieves and appoint the greats ones to public office”, decorated the entire length of the west side of the tower.  You could ready it from a good distance away, hence the guard invasion.  It was pretty funny, because while I was writing in a hurry, our cluster followed me the entire way.  So, anybody paying any sort of attention would’ve just seen a group of elves shuffling in unison to the right.  My adrenaline was through the roof, in a good way for once.  I was kind of bummed I didn’t get a chance to add in a quick “fuck the system” while I was at it, but whatever.

Since we were at the docks, and it was right in the middle of the workday, we had no trouble blending into the overcrowded streets even though the guardsmen yelled after us.  I followed Sovin and couldn’t help laughing as we ducked around the various people who cursed at us when we’d get too close to hitting them.  In turn, Sovin cursed at me, probably for finding joy in this. 

“Dude! They’re not following us anymore.” I panted, grabbing onto his sleeve to keep him from running on without me.  I pulled him to the side of the street so we could lean against the wall of the nearest building.  Sovin looked around a couple times, but stayed with me. 

“That…was not smart. Why did I let you talk me into that?” He stared up at the sky like he was asking some higher being.

“Yo, I didn’t make you follow us. Anyway, that was freakin’ awesome.” I pushed him, making him stumble to the right.

Ignoring his glare, I kept talking, “Aw man, we should do the Chantry next.”

I laughed outrageously at the utter horror on his face and had to reassure him at least three times that I was totally just joking. 

We’d ran all the way into Lowtown, so we didn’t have that far to go to get to the alienage.  I wasn’t headed that way, so I said goodbye when we were almost at the alleyway we always take to get to the alienage gates. 

“Wait!” Sovin called out, “What did you even write?”

I grinned, walking backwards away from him, and told him.  Sovin, looking a little pale, shook his head and muttered to himself.  I thought I heard something along the lines of “You’re going to get arrested”, which just made me laugh some more.

~

I made it to Hawke’s, late, for lunch. Varric and Hawke had already begun eating without me and kept their conversation going even as I sat down at the table next to them.  Merrill, who would usually come by for lunch as well, wasn’t here.  I knew automatically that she probably got sucked into working on her creepy mirror, which she’d been working on more and more in the last few months, ever since that awful day that fucked us all up.  Nobody really talks much about it; that day and the whole deal with Merrill’s mirror, which I still didn't know much about.  Not that I even _wanted_ to.

I focused on eating.  Breaking the law so early in the day left me feeling half-starved so I loaded my plate up with food, which I could tell was made by Bodahn because it looked absolutely delicious.  I began eating shamelessly, the bread I started the day off with had apparently done nothing for me. 

“Hmm, well we can head to Sundermount as early as tomorrow,” Varric was saying, looking at a sheaf of paper intently. “But I think we should leave Blondie behind on this one.”

Hawke nodded, also busy stuffing his face with food.  He gulped loud before responding, “I suppose that would be smart.  Templars and all that.  You, me, Fenris, and Isabela then?”

“I could go,” I put in my two cents, half-joking.

“No,” Hawke and Varric said at the same time, without even looking over at me.

I was in too much of a good mood to be put out, in fact I was actually amused.  I shrugged like it was their loss (it wasn’t, but still), and carried on with inhaling the food in front of me.

“Chew your food, Fitz. You’re going to choke,” Hawke absently nagged, as he was now the one looking intently at the piece of paper Varric had been holding.

I made exaggerated choking sounds, dropping my fork and everything, and then almost choked for real (from laughing) when I saw Hawke do a double take.  Varric roared with laughter.

Hawke sniffed and said, “Fine. Be like that. Just eat my food and make fun of me in my own house. Ingrates.” He ended the last part with a dramatic mutter while me and Varric continued to snicker.

Hawke looked around, finally putting the paper down.  He leaned back in his chair, stretching, while he said, “Aveline should have been here by now, yes?”

Varric nodded, leaning back in his chair as well. “I bet one of the nobles is trying to buy her out as we speak.”

Hawke laughed. “Maker help them.”

“Say,” Varric began, looking at me rather questioningly. “What’s that on your hands, Scholar?”

“Paint.”

Hawke and Varric looked at each other and seemed to collectively decide not to ask.

Aveline did show up eventually, after we’d already started a game of cards and had forgotten that she was supposed to even visit. The first thing I noticed was that she was livid.

I tried to subtly put my cards down and hide my hands under the table without her noticing when she stormed in and threw herself in the chair across from me, though I had a feeling Varric saw me.  We all stared at her and, thankfully, she didn’t make us wait long for an explanation.

“Some…” She seemed to have to stop in order to collect herself, lest her anger give way, “ _V_ _andals_ managed to deface an entire wall in the docks.  This is the third one this month and we still haven’t caught any of the perpetrators.” She poured herself a drink and took a long swig, still fuming.

“What _really_ makes this one, though, is the fact that they got away with it in broad daylight.  When I had patrols already walking the docks.” Aveline glared out at nothing, too consumed in her anger to pay us any mind.

I had to cover a snort by pretending to cough, which went largely unnoticed by Aveline.  I did, however, feel the twin stares of Hawke and Varric who were most definitely catching on.  Aveline continued her rant in the meantime. 

“How…it was in the middle of the day!” Aveline wiped her hand across her face, obviously a little more than frustrated.  Awesome.  I hadn’t even realized the patrols had been there for the entire time we’d been painting.  Either we were just that skilled at looking non-suspicious, or Aveline needed to do some serious re-haul in her guardsmen training regiment.

“If I may ask, exactly _how_ was this wall vandalized?” Hawke asked innocently.

Now Aveline snorted.  “The usual discontent of the masses,” she said, pausing briefly before adding, “Actually, it was different than the other two.  They actually wrote something.”  This got her going again, though she sounded begrudgingly impressed.

“It was oddly…learned.  It looked like something written by a noble.  Sounded like it too.”

“Well? What did it say?” Hawke pressed, trying to hide his slight annoyance at the anticipation.  I was struggling not to start snickering again.

“We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office.” Aveline looked around at us, perplexed. “Does that sound like the work of some miscreant from Lowtown to you?”

“No, it certainly doesn’t,” Varric hummed, sounding like he was in deep thought over something.  He had to have put it together, so I don’t know what he could’ve been thinking about.  My attention was pulled away from him by Hawke’s next words.

“Hmm, what an oddity you have there, Aveline.  Sounds to me you should just leave it there. I’m sure it brightens the place up.” He gave a dry smile. “And, there is a good degree of truth in it, wouldn’t you say?”

Aveline sort of nodded before she caught herself and huffed.  “Well, we don’t exactly have any choice in the matter as of right now.  It’s not coming off in the…normal way.  We sent a request for the assistance of a mage but Maker knows if that’ll ever go through.” She shook her head.

“Too bad,” Hawke said cheerfully. “At least now we have some nice rebel art to look forward to.  It’ll almost make it worth going to the docks voluntarily. Don’t you think so, Fitz?”

I couldn’t answer.  I was almost in fits over the fact that nobody could even clean it off.  Hawke, perceptive as always, had obviously saw that and decided to totally throw me under the bus.

“What’s that on your hands?” Aveline was suddenly looking at me with a sharpness that wasn’t there before.  I’d accidentally covered my mouth with one paint-splattered hand.

I jerked back in my seat, and then jumped up.  “Well, look at the time.  This has been swell, but I gotta jet.  See ya!”

I fled the room, knowing Aveline was already piecing things together (and would probably ream me out for being a no-good criminal later on).  The last thing I heard before I made it to the hallway was Hawke talking.

“Jet? I swear he just makes these words up sometimes…”

When I was out the door, I broke down laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have break coming up, so I'm hoping I'll have time to write even more. Then it's finals week and soon I'll be free X'D


	20. Going Down

The weather warmed up considerably in the next few weeks, which was rather odd for the Free Marches.  Usually, the winter months were short and the summer long and hot.  As it was, in the short, few weeks I had to put my coat away once again because it was simply way too bulky for the heat, and it was just make me stand out even more.

I had gotten even taller.  I had been keeping track on Merrill’s doorframe for some time and I jumped about three inches from the time of the new year and now, which was about six months later.  Merrill, who was also a little bit taller than most of the others in the alienage, thought it was absolutely adorable, who knows why.  I basically towered over the rest of the elves and I _definitely_ noticed the looks I’d get for it.  Humans, though, I could blend in with, which is nice to know seeing as I am one.  I found out that by growing out my hair, which used to stick out in little tufts on the top of my head with the sides buzzed, I could cover my ears pretty nicely.  There was no hiding the roundness of my eyes, but that wasn’t as big of a factor since, without the blatant ears showing, it just made me look younger. 

The others thought it was funny, although I think Fenris might’ve been a little jealous since he used to be the tall elf.  He didn’t show any outward expression when the others brought it up, so I just went on assuming he was deathly jealous of my superior height.

It was also an indicator of my age.  It was obvious I was still technically an adolescent because I was still growing, and the others found enjoyment in making fun of this small fact while also trying to guess my age.  It was kind of funny that I’d managed to avoid giving them straight answers about that, but, even I’ll admit, it was getting old.  I ended up telling them randomly one night at the Hanged Man that I was almost nineteen years old.  The commotion it caused was hilarious.

Hawke looked at me incredulously from across the table.  It was similar to how everyone else was looking at me, too.

“But, you look like you’re fifteen.” He gaped.

“Are you saying I looked thirteen when you met me?” I countered, a bit peeved at that assumption.

“You certainly acted like it…still do.” Fenris muttered into his drink.  I turned on him, which was hard since he was sitting next to me.  I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I didn’t get the chance anyways because Anders interrupted.

“Well, when _I_ first met you, you definitely looked like you were at least twelve.” Anders looked exaggeratedly contemplative.

I scowled at him, “Shut up, that’s not true.”

Anders nodded his head vigorously, he was more than a little drunk. “You did! A small child in ridiculous clothing yelling at thugs on my doorstep.”

“Oh, like you can talk! What’s your outfit inspired by? Big bird?”

Before Anders could retaliate, Isabela caught my attention when she leaned in close to Hawke and whispered something in his ear.  I became even more suspicious when he turned bright red and quickly covered by taken a big drink from his mug.  She laughed.  I figured I didn’t want to know what she said, it was probably gross or a proposition or something. 

Just then, Merrill temporarily interrupted the table as she had just arrived, settling in clumsily next to Isabela, who immediately wrapped an arm around the smaller woman.  Merrill looked exhausted, but she happily joined into the conversation regardless.

“Does this mean you know when your name-day is, Scholar?” Varric brought the topic back to me.  He looked like he’d latched onto some vital information, which I thought was totally weird.

“What’s this? Is it your name-day?” Merrill gushed, sounding partly accusing over the fact that she didn’t know this beforehand.

“Nah, not today. And not really. It’s in the fall, though.”

“You little rascal. Why didn’t you tell us _last_ fall?” Hawke griped.

I shrugged and sipped on my drink.  “I don’t care much about it.”

“Nonsense,” Hawke waved his hand dismissively, and narrowly missed Isabela’s head.  He, too, was pretty drunk apparently. “Well then, we’ll make plans for a huge celebration…in…let’s do Harvestmere!”

Everyone else gave their assent and the next few minutes were dedicated to discussing the future party, each idea getting more and more outrageous as it went on. 

~

Our days usually ended like that.  I mean, not the part about my birthday, but the happy and funny part.  Hawke was still busy running between Kirkwall, the Wounded Coast, and sometimes Sundermount, so I think he needed these nights to help relax him.  The others, too, since half of them usually accompanied him on whatever the day’s mission was.

Of course, it didn’t last long, because when did anything good last?

First it was Isabela.  All I knew was that she’d ran off with something, and as the weeks went by it became apparent she wasn’t going to return.  I spent a few days consoling Merrill, who seemed to take it the hardest.  When she finally shook it off, Merrill had convinced herself that Isabela would come back, and I mean she _really_ convinced herself of this.  She wouldn’t listen to anything that went against that.  I thought it was a nice thought, but it just didn’t seem all that likely.  We all let Merrill believe, there was no reason not to.

To be honest, Hawke kept me in the dark about a lot of the shit that went down during those months.  No one would tell me anything, not even Merrill.  They were gone more often, too, or else just really busy.  I found myself walking around by myself more often than not. 

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t angry or anything.  Resentment was there, but who was I to judge? I mean, shit, I was hiding a ton of stuff so it’s not like I could hate on Hawke for doing the same. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to just hang out while Hawke ran around day and night.  Someone else clearly saw this as the perfect opportunity for a nice reunion, what with Hawke and co too busy to keep an eye on me.  I had to give it to her too; she had bided her time so patiently and quietly, I suspect Hawke and Varric both forgot about my small stalker issue from all those many months before. 

I was also to blame for what happened.  I had pushed it too far from my mind, I simply didn’t want to deal with it, so I definitely brought it on myself.  I mean, I didn’t even keep a curfew; I was walking around by myself no matter if it was day or night.  It was so stupid of me, but it’s not like I can go back and just magically make myself smarter.  Hah, magically, as if.

It really attested for my ability to willingly forget disturbing shit, as I was completely surprised when I was grabbed off the streets one night.  I resisted on instinct, and might’ve even gotten an elbow in somewhere, but one firm hit to the back of the head and I didn’t even remember blacking out.

~

The first thing I noticed was the smell.  You’d think that would’ve been enough to make me realize where I was, but I must’ve really pushed those memories down far because it didn’t.

When I came to, I was sprawled across the dirty ground with a pounding headache that seemed like it was trying to ascend the confines of my brain.  My hands were tied behind my back and even more rope was dedicated to keeping my legs from kicking out.  I could barely bend them.

It took sight to register what had happened; to register where I was.  When my eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting, I recognized the damp, crudely erected walls and various, broken down shafts that surrounded the place.  Piles of filth decorated the area and the stench made me nearly gag.  That was another thing.  There was no cloth or anything like it wrapped around my face to keep me from calling help.  That fucked me up worse than being tied up and unable to move properly.

I could call, yell, scream bloody murder all I wanted, but no one would come.  People don’t help people down here.  They just hide and try to keep their own selves alive, which is hard enough. 

I closed my eyes when the shakiness started up, and it became harder to breath.  I tried to focus on the deep breaths, the counting out Mississippi’s, but it really wasn’t helping.  My mind was racing, delving into the past rather than focusing on how to get out of this.

When a clammy hand gently ran down my cheek, I almost did scream. 

I jerked back like I’d been stung, but the hand pulled me back roughly.

“Darling, I’ve been waiting for so long,” The sound of her accented voice almost put me into a full-blown panic attack.  I don’t know how I didn’t black out again.  I just laid there with my eyes clenched shut like it would make all of this go away, but her hand cupping my face made it impossible.

“I bet you thought you’d be safe forever.” She whispered in my ear, sending shudders down my back. “How lucky it was for you to find such strong young things to protect you.  I’m told you’re very close to them.”

“Are you not going to greet me? Have you not missed me?” Her grating voice pitched at the end, and she let out a shrill laugh. “Come, darling, look at me.”

I listened; I don’t know why, but I had to.  To this day, after so many years, I still don’t know why I felt like I had to. 

It wasn’t a pretty sight.  Her face was lined with premature wrinkles and she had that pallor that came with never seeing the light of the sun.  Patches of her skin were dark in color and just plain gross looking and the outline of her face was thin, concaved into itself.  When she smiled at me, her insanity became even more evident.  I could see in her eyes that she wasn’t all there.  Now that I was actually focusing on something, even if it was someone from my darkest nightmares, I could feel my awareness returning to me.  I could feel the slight tremor in the hand that caressed my cheek and I could see that the tremors extended to her whole body.  She couldn’t seem to be still, even though she was kneeling down.

I jolted a bit when something moved behind her.  Her grin widened and she turned a bit, letting her hand drop from my face.

“You didn’t get to meet each other properly.  Please, darling, meet my brother.” She giggled madly. “He’s been watching you for such a long time now, and it was only yesterday that he was able to actually fetch you.”

I looked at the man behind Marcella; he was leaning against one of the dank walls and didn’t seem to have an expression whatsoever when our eyes met.  He just looked dead inside.

I wanted to hide my face.  I didn’t want to see any of this.  Not the dead bodies a few feet away from us and certainly not this.

“No, don’t do that! Come now, sit up.” She tried to force me up herself, but it seemed like her strength failed her.  Instead, she snapped at her dead-eyed crony and he stepped around her to haul me up.  He had to drag me a few paces backwards and my already aching head smacked into the wall he propped me up against.  I groaned aloud from the pain, but Marcella just hushed me.

“Now, now, don’t cry. This is a happy occasion!” She said, as she stood up and walked away from me.  I could hear her rustling around for something even though I couldn’t see her.  I sat there against the wall, with barely any motivation to even try to move.  Dead Eyes stared at me from where he had resumed leaning against the adjacent wall.  I had to look away.

Marcella came back into view, only instead of talking at me some more she addressed Dead Eyes. 

“Bring him over. It’s ready.” She delivered a brief, mad smile at me and turned away once again.

Dead Eyes loomed over me, and while I thought he was just going to pick me up, he instead dragged my limp body across the floor.  Lovely man. 

I saw candles and lines.  As I struggled to sit up by leaning back on my forearms, an insane burst of laughter bubbled up in my throat and I couldn’t keep it in.  I finally found my voice.

“Really? This again?” My laughter echoed in the small area, I could hear it go down the multitude of hallways.  “You're fuckin’ stupid if you think this is gonna work.”

She lost her vague smile, and replaced it with a snarl.  When she struck me, electricity flew from her palm and should’ve burnt the right side of my face.  But it didn’t, like I knew it wouldn’t.

I looked up at her, she was still leaning over my crumpled body and panting like she’d just over-exerted herself, and said, “It’s pointless.  All of it.” 

“We shall see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so vague, but please let me know if it's too vague! (and i'm sure there's tons of errors and what not; i didn't read it over !)  
> thanks for reading!


	21. Now with More Blood Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there's a fight scene and more death!

Back in the early days, during my first foray in the sewers, I was basically a science experiment.  Or should I call it a blood magic experiment? 

It’s funny, magic brought me into this world, but does it actually work on me? No.

On my first day in Thedas, I think it took Marcella five minutes to get frustrated with me (I was cursing up a storm because, hello, one minute I’m walking home from school and then the next I know I’m in some disgusting sewer).  She sent the electricity flying, a bolt of it.  I saw the light and I saw it go right through my leg like I wasn’t even there.  It didn’t touch me whatsoever.  So, imagine my utter shock over the existence of magic.  

Oh, and god, imagine the surprise on her face when she saw that.  She managed to fucking conjure up some being from another realm and her main weapon doesn’t even work on them?  It would’ve been funnier if she didn’t have underlings who tackled me immediately after the failed magic performance, which was easy for them because I was frozen from shock.

And Marcella tried everything.  I lost count of the amount of fireballs and icicles she sent at me.  Even blood magic, which brought me here, didn’t do anything.  I’ve made some theories of my own; some of it coming from my own feelings and the rest from the many books I’ve read in the Chantry. 

What Marcella did was a thousand times more illegal than just any blood magic.  I have no clue where she amassed so much power to do it either; the best I could come up with was that she found one of oldest demons out there and made a deal with it.  Because what she did should have been impossible.  Realm hopping doesn’t exist, time magic doesn’t exist, hell, even teleportation doesn't exist here.  But, somehow, she opened a portal that just so happened to land in a spot that I fucking stepped in. 

Again, this is all just me theorizing, for the sake of my sanity.  It still makes me want to pull out my hair thinking that there was probably a small portal to another fucking dimension right on the pavement, in the middle of the sidewalk close to my school and, by all the luck in the world, I stepped on it and fell in. 

So, I’ve got at least a working theory on how in the hell I got here, but then I had to think about the magic thing.  I tried looking into lyrium, but there just wasn’t all that much information available to the public and it’s not like I could just ask a Templar.  So, I had to scrap that by default.  In the end, nothing could really explain why magic didn’t affect me.  I had to make my own inferences based on my minimal knowledge of the Fade and magic; since everyone had to make it so damn hard to get conclusive information on these subjects, like they’re big secrets or something. 

There’s no magic in the world I’m from.  We have stories about it; all that fantasy crap.  But, actual magic?  No way.  Just like we don’t have elves, dwarves (the Thedas kind, of course), or qunari.  Dwarves couldn’t practice magic because of lyrium, but I knew for a fact magic could still be used on them.  Varric told me once that dwarves don’t dream, and when I was reading I learned that it was because their connection to the Fade is limited. 

I can’t apply any of this to myself, not really.  I don’t have a connection to the Fade; never had one because where I’m from it simply doesn’t exist.  The easiest way I can explain it, in this book and to myself, is to say: if magic doesn’t exist for me, in my world, then maybe I don’t exist for magic.  That would at least explain why magic slides off me like I’m not even there.

That’s really as far as I got.  I know it’s not much, but maybe if I had more time, and more reading material, I would’ve found something more concrete.  Or even a way home.  In any case, my second episode of captivity screwed everything up.  I never even got a chance afterwards to continue scouring the Chantry, let alone think more about all this shit. 

~

The ritual she had set up for me was just like the ones from before.  Put me in the center of a circle, blood magic it up, presumably attempt to reopen the portal (maybe using me as a conduit to my old world?), and, finally, fail miserably.

And just that happened.  I stayed reclined on the ground, with the added pressure of a slash across my stomach so that my blood could mix with this stupid-ass ritual.  I watched her try and fail.  I even watched Dead Eyes.  He was still impassive but his eyes weren’t as dead as before, they were just a bit sharper.  He was definitely paying attention.

Marcella almost had a fit when the whole thing didn’t work.  She was clearly at her wits end, like she was being consumed by desperation.  It was probably the fact that she’d managed the unthinkable, the impossible, by bringing me here; and that fact drove her mad.  Or it was all the blood magic, which was just as likely.

When she finally looked at me again, it was with hate.

“It’s not fair. Y…you must be doing this.” She was pulling her hair, and to my disgust some of it was actually coming out.

“Yeah,” I said, stressing the ‘ah’, “I’m sittin’ here fuckin’ with your magic mojo, that’s it.”

She screeched and flew at me, but at the last second something stopped her.  She was thrown back by something I couldn’t see, I had to assume it was magic.  I whipped my head around at the only other person with us and saw a completely different man in Dead Eyes.  He walked over to Marcella, who was struggling faintly to sit up, and he said something to her.  I strained to hear him but it was useless. 

The he turned back to me.

It was sort of crazy how much his demeanor had changed.  Suddenly, he didn’t seem much like the crony or underling type.  He strode towards me and, I don’t know, I freaked.  I guess it was because of how calm and collected he was.  He looked like he wanted to dissect me; I’d already experienced that at Marcella’s hands and she wasn’t even all that creative.  Dead Eyes looked creative.

He ignored my squirming easily enough (my binds really were rather tight), and grabbed me by the jaw.  He jerked my face up so that I was forced to meet his eyes.  They bore into me with blatant curiosity and something a lot like greed. 

“We thought she was just another raving lunatic,” He sneered; his accent was weird but similar to Marcella’s.  I’d never heard anyone in the Kirkwall with an accent like that.  But, of course, he wasn’t done talking, “How surprising it is to see that you are indeed impervious to magic.” He looked me over some more, adopting a contemplative look before grinning down at me.

“The Magisterium will just love to study you.”

~

I felt sick.  Just like I suspected, they were going to experiment on me.  I tried to wrack my brain for the meaning behind the word ‘Magisterium’.  It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think of what it even meant.  All I knew was that I wasn’t about to be  tortured again.  Not when my escape last time was pure fucking luck.  I’d rather die than go through that again.

Not-so-Dead-Eyes had left me after dropping that particular bomb.  I couldn’t see where he was but I could still hear him moving around; it sounded like he was a good distance away.  I looked at where Marcella lay, quite a few feet away from me.  She wasn’t moving anymore and I honestly couldn’t tell if she was just unconscious or actually dead.  I didn’t really care.

I laid down on my back.  I’d seen a jagged bit of metal sticking out from the broken mineshaft closest to me.  From where I was, it looked like it was at the perfect angle for me saw open the rope that bound my wrists

I took a deep breath, and rolled.  I thought I was pretty quiet, I mean there’s only so much I can do to not rustle as I roll across the rough ground.  Even so, I paused after only two rolls to my left so I could listen for footsteps.  It was all clear; Dead Eyes was still doing his thing and Marcella was still doing hers.

I rolled the rest of the way to the shaft (I probably looked absolutely ridiculous, but desperate measures, right?).  I could sit up even though I couldn't bend my legs.  I tried to lift my shoulders as high as they go, so my binds could reach the metal.  The metal was a bit high, but it was close enough, though I had to strain a bit to make myself taller. 

I started sawing at it, occasionally darting my eyes left and right for signs of Dead Eyes’ return.  Thankfully, the metal bit was also sharper than I’d thought; the rope was nearly in pieces after only a few saws.  Thank the lord they hadn’t chained me up instead.  I would’ve been beyond screwed.

Once the rope was done for, I waved my hands around quickly to get the feeling back in them. 

My legs were harder to undo, it made me wish bitterly for my dagger.  They must’ve stashed that somewhere, because I had had it on me at the time of my abduction. 

I had to lift my legs, while still sitting down, and repeat the process all over again.  Every time I broke a piece of the rope, I’d unloosen it as far as it could go.  Luckily, I didn’t have to tear the entire thing; after a minute or two, I was able to loosen it to the point where I could just wiggle out of it.

Standing was also awkward, I was jittery with adrenaline and I had to practically will the feeling back into my legs.  I hadn’t realized they were practically dead asleep from how tight the binding was.  While I hesitated, I listened hard for Dead Eyes.  When I couldn’t hear anything from his end, I got even more nervous.  He definitely wasn’t in our particular spot of the dank sewers, but there were multiple different entrances and exits due to the labyrinth-like layout of the damn place.  He could pop out from anywhere.

Thinking fast, I tried to run over to Marcella.  I write ‘tried to’ because I remember it being more like a stumble, but whatever.

Her robes had too many pockets, but thankfully I saw what I needed immediately, and hanging off of her belt.  My dagger.  I almost spit on her while I was at it, for spite, but I settled for just grabbing my weapon and being done with her.  From up close, I could clearly see that she was dead.

I held my dagger at the ready, wondering if I should wait for this guy.  I didn’t want him coming after me, and I also didn’t like the idea of someone else knowing about my predicament. 

You might think I fought with myself over this, but I didn’t.  My mind immediately went to killing this guy; I couldn’t see any other way to get out of this, not when he wants something called the ‘Magisterium’ to experiment on me.  No, I wasn’t going to let that happen.  I had to end this instead of forcing myself to just forget about it like I had with Marcella, and we all know how that turned out.

I stood a few paces away from the archway I knew he had went through, and waited.

I think I stood there for a while.  I started to worry that he was bringing back friends, but then I heard footsteps.  Just one pair.  I tensed and pressed myself further into the wall.

I jumped him as soon as he took a step through the arch.  I checked him into the doorframe and used one of the nice jabs Hawke taught me. 

Dead Eyes recovered from my sudden attack almost immediately.  My dagger missed its mark by barely an inch and I had to jerk back to avoid ramming the blade into the wooden frame.  I expected to hear a weapon unsheathing, but there was nothing.  Instead, a fist met the side of my head and made a resounding impact on my battle stance.  I stumbled backwards and he advanced.

“Was that the extent of your skills?” He mocked. “How droll.”

I responded by leaning forward and head-butting him.  He lost his breath and staggered backwards, but that quickly delved into a grappling of sorts.  He attempted to peel my dagger from my hand and I had my shoulder rammed in his chest.  I brought my head back and let it crash into his front jaw.  He jumped back, almost fell, and my head ached with a nearly unbearable pain.  He was yelling, and I was pleased to see blood running from his mouth. 

I ran at him again, only for him to elbow me in the face.  I stuck it out and stayed close.  Finally, maybe miraculously, I was able to bury my dagger into his stomach. 

We fell over together, I kept my grip on the hilt for as long as I could.  I was lying on top of him, and his breaths were shuddering.  I closed my eyes and yanked the dagger upward.

When I opened my eyes again, his eyes were lifeless.  He stared up at the ceiling, his face set in an expression of slight surprise, like he hadn’t completely grasped the notion that he had lost.

I sat up and wrenched my dagger out, with some difficulty.  My breaths were coming out in ragged bursts, and I tried to focus myself so I wouldn’t get lost in a panic attack.

I rolled off of him, and took a moment to gather myself.  Forcing myself to take deep breathes, I busied myself with wiping off the blood from my dagger onto Dead Eyes’ cloak.  I also steeled myself to do the same to the blood on my face; a gift from getting up close and personal with a guy who was gushing blood from his mouth. 

When I deemed myself suitable, I left.  I pick pocketed the two of them first, for practicality’s sake (and probably as something ingrained in me from witnessing a few of Hawke’s adventures).  I maneuvered my way out of the sewers, getting turned around quite a few times.  When I got to the more populated parts of the sewers, no one so much as looked at me.  I was glad.  I didn’t want to deal with anybody at the moment.

I stopped just before what I knew to be the exit into Darktown.  It was the same exit I used last time.

I stood in the shadows, and even though I stared out at my surroundings, I wasn’t really seeing.  I was wondering how long I’d been gone, and if it was long enough for people to be looking for me.  I hoped that wasn’t the case.  I couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not Dead Eyes had told anybody about me.  I was there for a while, but I should've stayed longer.

My first step back into Darktown resulted in me walking headfirst into a freaking City Guard.  And stupid me, I still had my dagger out, like I was still expecting a fight.  It didn’t help that, despite my best efforts, I was covered in blood, a detail I only found out about later on when I finally got a good look at myself in better lighting. 

Yeah, so, it really came as no surprise when I was promptly arrested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, so. i had a lot of free time today. i haven't read over it, its pretty late so yeah :P blanket apologies for errors  
> thanks for reading! and comments! i really love hearing feedback!


	22. More Lies

So, I was probably the only person in the history of ever to have been arrested in Darktown.  Guards don’t really patrol the streets all that much, and as long as you hide everything well enough, you won’t get arrested.  Sadly, there’s only so much guards can ignore.  Apparently the line gets crossed when you show up covered in someone else’s blood and brandishing a knife.  Who knew.

I was put into a joint cell with a few other miscreants.  I was side-eyed a bit but summarily ignored, which was just fine by me.  I leant against the wall, in the corner away from everyone, wondering when Aveline was going to bust me out. 

The answer was: _hours_.  I waited for maybe three hours in that dingy cell alongside far tougher men than me.  Aveline herself didn’t come down to the cells.  Instead, the guard who arrested me escorted (half-dragged) me to her office, which was actually quite plush.  I didn’t get to visit her office all that much.  Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, that might’ve been my first time even seeing it.

“Aveline!” I said, relieved to finally see a familiar face.  The guard subtly pushed me into an empty chair and went on standby behind me.  Aveline didn’t look necessarily pleased to see me, but I definitely caught relief in her eyes as well.

“Guardsman Nabil, you say you found him in the sewers?” She kept her attention on the guard behind me while she spoke.

“Just exiting them, ser.”

“Right.  And did he threaten you?”

“Er…no, he was just acting suspicious.  I could tell that wasn’t his blood and he had a weapon out, ser.”

“I see.  I’m sure you also noticed he has been injured as well?” The guard stuttered something out; he clearly hadn’t noticed the gash on my stomach.  Aveline went on, “That will be all, Guardsman.  I’ll handle it from here.  Thank you.”

Aveline waited until the man was gone and the door was firmly shut before she started in on me.

“The sewers, Fitz?  Please don’t tell me that’s where you’ve been these past few days.” She bit her lip, looking me over.  Suddenly, I felt certain that I looked far worse than I’d originally thought.

“Are you hurt?” She made an aborted gesture like she was going to reach out to me.  I was glad she didn’t. 

“Nah, I’m good.” I told her, leaning away from her just in case.  The gash on my stomach was already scabbing over and whatever bruises I had on display were self-evident. 

Aveline frowned at me, crossing her arms. “Alright.  Start explaining.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Um, well, it pretty much speaks for itself, don’t it?  I got in a fight.”

Her severe glare basically forced me to go on, though I was reluctant.

“Okay, okay.  I was just visiting Darktown.  Was gonna see if Anders was in, you know?  But then some asshole pushed me and stole my purse.  I chased him down…and we ended up in the sewers.”  It took my all not to accidentally end that last bit in a question.

Aveline stared at me some more, probably for intimidation reasons in case there was more I wasn’t telling her.  When it became obvious that I wasn’t going to continue, she finally spoke.

“So, what you are saying, is that you spent the last two days in the sewers.  Chasing down a pick-pocket.” I bit my cheek as she talked, she made it sound really stupid with all her pauses and the sarcastic undertone.  “If you tell me the truth right now, I won’t be so inclined to toss you back in a cell for the night.”

“Aw, shit, Aveline.  I’m tellin’ the truth, I swear.  It’s just…when I tried to freakin’ leave the sewers, I got jumped.  I had to fight ‘em off.  Blacked out afterwards.  I’d, like, just woken up when I ran into that guard.”  My lie was so obviously stretched.  I mean, I blacked out for two whole days? Yeah right.  Looking back, I honestly don’t know why they let me get away with half this shit.  I could do easy lies very well, but I was absolutely horrible at making up stories.

In any case, Aveline let up.  I suspect she didn’t actually have the time to get into it with me; no one did back then, what with everything that was going on. 

“Hawke can deal with you.  He’s probably running across the Keep as we speak anyways.” She sighed like she was imagining him pushing nobles over on his way to us.  Although, to be fair, that was a very valid line of thinking.

Hawke proved her words not even a minute later.  He burst through the door and zeroed in on me immediately.  I think it took him a split second to cross the room and reach me.  I barely had time to stand up from my chair before he was in my face.

He didn’t waste any time in making sure I was okay.  I tried to tolerate it, but when he lifted a hand to my cheek, I jerked backwards.  He didn’t try again.

“Do I have to lock you up whenever I go away from now on?” His voice was strangled, it was barely noticeable and he cleared his throat right after, but I caught it.  Aveline told him everything before I could open my mouth.

“Maybe you could take this to your estate, Hawke?  Not to be insensitive, but I have a lot to do here.” She sounded weary and, when I turned to her, I could see that she looked it too.

“Of course,” Hawke nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of coming between you and work.  Let's go, Fitz.” He kept his tone light, but he looked troubled and tired too.  I didn’t miss the quiet ‘thank you’ he murmured to Aveline on our way out.

Hawke didn’t try to touch me during our journey to his house, which I was very grateful for.  I tried not to show it, but I was still twitchy from the recent events.  He didn’t speak to me either.  Even when we finally arrived at his place, he kept walking and didn’t so much as stop to talk.  I hesitated in the middle of his living room, feeling the weight of Bodahn’s questioning look.  I sent him an awkward grin, but ultimately decided to follow Hawke upstairs.  It was tempting to avoid the confrontation by just hanging out downstairs, but Hawke didn’t deserve that.  And I honestly doubted he would stand for it, he was being a bit dramatic right now but he wouldn’t just let me hide away.

Instead, I scampered up the stairs and followed Hawke into the small library that was off to the left.

I found him standing in front of the fireplace, just staring into it.  I hovered in the doorway for a few seconds.  I was a bit put off by his silence.  It made me feel anxious, or something.

Eventually he sighed, like he was giving something up, and gestured for me to move closer. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Oh,” I muttered.  I looked down at myself, partially just so I wouldn’t have to look at him.  My tunic was drenched in blood, and the lower half hung awkwardly thanks to the sacrificial slash I'd received on my stomach.  “I’ve got it.”

I didn’t exactly know what I was going to do.  I think I half expected to just see a first-aid kit lying around on the first surface I laid my eyes on, what with the amount of fights these guys got into.  Hawke had me beat though.  He’d crossed the room while I was checking out my tunic, and already held the Thedas equivalent to a first-aid kit in his hands.  He gave me a look that I totally read as, ‘protest-I-dare-you-to-you-little-punk’.  I decided to shut up and just let him help.

The desk had a minimal amount of crap on it, and Hawke moved even more to a nice heap on the ground, so I sat myself down on top of it.  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Bodahn enter the room with a bucket of water.  He placed it next to us, along with a washcloth, and left without saying a word.  Hawke picked the cloth up and dunked it into the bucket while I played with the hem of my ruined shirt.  I bit the bullet and took my shirt off as quickly as I could, sort of tearing at the scabs on my stomach. 

Hawke cleaned the slash wound first, and bandaged it pretty well for good measure, before he went on to attack the dried blood that still clung to my skin. 

He decided to start the conversation when he was rubbing at a particularly stubborn patch of blood on my temple. 

“So, am I to forever wonder about what truly happened during these past two days?” He paused to wet the cloth again.  “Or will you give me the courtesy of putting my mind at ease?”

“It’s like I told Aveline,” I muttered, as he moved on to put a useless salve on my bruised temple.  “I didn’t mean to go into the sewers…I couldn’t afford to lose all that money–”

“Yes, yes you could have.” Hawke interrupted, in a tone that I could only describe as aggressive.

“Then, I wasn’t thinkin’, yeah?” I retorted, just as aggressively. “It’s not like I _asked_ to get jumped.”

“Let’s pretend, just for a second, that I even remotely believe that you voluntarily went into the sewers, and for a bloody coin-purse at that.  How am I to believe that you fought off a group of thugs, alone, and yet somehow managed to walk away with only the barest amount of injuries?”

"Well, technically, I passed out for, like, two days before I cou-"

"Yes, yes.  How silly of me." He said snidely. "My point here was that there's no way you fought off a group of fully grown men.  Who attack people daily.  For a _living_."

“Yeah, so? And you been teachin’ me to fight every goddamn day.  You sayin’ I’m not good at this shit?”

“That is _not_ what I’m saying, and you know it.” He shook his head.  Whether it was for emphasis or in disbelief, I couldn’t tell.  "You're lucky to be alive."

Neither of us spoke for quite a while after that.  Hawke changed the water in the bucket and got me a dry towel.  After he returned, I used the fresh water to dunk my head in and clean my hair.  It was an unconventional bath that I sorely needed.  I was just glad Hawke didn’t make me use his tub.  That would’ve felt way too…weird.  In a vulnerable way, I guess.

As for Hawke, he was clearly deep in thought.  I towel-dried my hair slowly; I knew it was only a matter of minutes before he opened his mouth again.  I tried to steel myself for the onslaught, but I was honestly more tired than anything.

“You promised me you wouldn’t go into the sewers.” He might as well have punched me; the impact of so much disappointment hurt just as much.

“And you even said–” He cut himself off, but I automatically knew that he was recalling my outburst at Varric’s from all those months ago.  I bit my lip, twisting my hands around the slightly damp towel as I attempted to think of something to say. 

 _I’m going to hell_ , I thought, _I’m so going to burn eternally for this_.

“I…I felt like I had to.  I don’t want to be useless…or weak.  Not anymore.” I paused to make sure I was wording everything right. “You guys are all so strong, and I just wanna keep up, you know?”

Hawke watched me silently the entire time.  When he still made no move to reply, I forced myself to talk more.

“I’m sorry I worried you…and everyone else, too.  I seriously didn’t mean to–” I didn’t finish my sentence.  Everything I was saying was true, to an extent, but I was still basically just twisting my words.  I was honestly content to be weak; I may not have liked it, but I knew how to get by with what I knew.  Even when I said it, though, I knew that deep down I wasn't always going to be content.  Not with being weak, and not with being unable to keep up to Hawke and everybody else.

I felt like there was something else I should've said, but I was grasping at straws by that point.  And It never came to me anyways.  I just looked at him, probably looked pretty pathetic, too.

“I’m sorry, Hawke.”

He sighed, but finally stopped with the relentless silent staring. 

“Listen, Fitz.  I know you didn’t mean to scare us like that.” He took the towel from my hands in one swift movement, as I had nearly twisted the thing into non-existence, before continuing, “But, if I’m being honest, I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“I think we’ve all been through enough of that, wouldn’t you say?” I caught the reference not only to us, but to the entire fiasco with Isabela, and nodded absently.  I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

He put one gentle hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t so much as flinch. “Do you think this can be the last time we say ‘let’s pretend this never happened’ and move on?” He ended it with a small, lopsided grin.

I only managed a slight twitch of my lips as I lied right to his face.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for reading!


	23. Almost There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is part one of a big chapter. i just cut it in half cuz i didn't wanna throw too much all at once

We had a few good weeks after the sewers incident.  On his part, Hawke acted like it all never happened, just like he said he would.  I think most of it had to do with how crazy everything was.  Even I couldn’t be kept in the dark about the growing tensions between the city and the Qunari. 

People talked loudly and frequently about the Qunari, as long as they weren’t anywhere near the docks, that is.  Outside of that small area, though, it was free game.  I overheard so much complaining and shit every day when I’d walk around Kirkwall, and it only got louder as the summer ended and it was finally fall again. 

There would be times when Hawke would tell me to stay in, or at least make me promise to not go out by myself, and I listened.  It seemed like it was every man for himself; even more so than usual, which is saying a lot.  But that’s not to say it was all bad.

Merrill was still working heavily on her creepy mirror, so sometimes Hawke would just come over to our house for dinner.  For the first time in ages, I actually tried my hand at cooking.  We could barely tear Merrill away from her work, so me and Hawke would figure out something to make.  Once, I tried explaining the joys of pizza to him, but he just stared at me wide-eyed.  I also had to tell him that in order to make it we’d have to like break into a bakery or some other place with a really great brick oven.  He then followed up by asking me if it was one of the great cultural dishes from my mysterious homeland, to which I just said ‘yes’ and quickly changed the subject.

For me, that was the biggest problem.  It was killing me, knowing that every day I was basically just lying by omission.  It confused me that he was so ready to forgive me for all the times he caught me, and I knew I was pushing it.  It wasn’t fair to him or to any of the others, since they had become my friends as well.  I obviously wasn’t as smooth as I though.  It’s pretty embarrassing when I think back on those days and realize just how much bullshit came out of my mouth.  I mean, I had to have known they never bought it.  Truthfully, I think I just ascribed to the ‘don’t think about it and it’s not a problem’ theology.  There were a lot of things I preferred to conveniently forget, or that I simply refused to dwell on.  Home was quickly becoming one of those things I didn’t want to think about.  Over that summer I lost nearly all of the motivation that drove me to read hundreds of books looking for answers.  I only occasionally forced myself to pick up a book, probably just to calm the guilt I couldn’t quite get rid of; guilt that I wasn’t trying hard enough to return to my real home.

Another thing ruining my life was my paranoia.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would turn a corner and run into some guy who would look exactly like Dead Eyes.  His words plagued me, badly.  I tried finding out more about the ‘Magisterium’ but it was surprisingly hard to find text about it and, like always, I never wanted to just right out ask someone.

I got my answer one night at Hawke’s place.  I was over-extending my visit by perusing the tall bookshelves in his library, while he and Fenris read together.  Well, they were trying to.  I don’t think Fenris wanted me to be there, but he didn’t actually say anything so maybe not. 

I had just picked up a large book from one of the high shelves, and was climbing down the step ladder when I accidentally dropped it.  It made a surprisingly loud bang (or maybe not so surprising, this thing was a fucking brick) and I cringed as I saw Fenris jerk in his seat.  Meanwhile, Hawke had jumped up from his seat and was half way over to me before he realized it was just a book that fell.  I grinned sheepishly and waved.

“Please, be careful.” He sighed, “I can’t handle any more heart attacks.”

“My bad.” I said as I hopped lightly off the ladder. I went to pick up the book but Hawke beat me to it.

“What’s this?” He said.  He looked up at me with his eyebrows raised. “You’ve moved onto the history of magic? I thought you didn’t like magic.”

I took the book from him and responded, a little bit defensively, “There’s not a lot of books on magic.  I just wanted to know more.  About its history, I mean.”

“Why not just ask one of the many mages we acquaint ourselves with on a daily basis?” Fenris said dryly, leaning back in his chair.

“Um, no thank you.” I replied a bit awkwardly, since I didn’t have a very good answer for that one.  I couldn’t very well go up to Anders and say, ‘So, buddy, if someone were to tell me the Magisterium wanted to study me, what would that mean? Also, what do you know about people who have been pulled into this world, from a totally different one, via blood magic? Thanks.’

Even if I didn’t have a problem asking for help, I would never in a billion years do that.

I sat down across from Fenris while Hawke resumed his post as the elf’s reading teacher.  I tuned them out easily enough as I flicked through the pages of my tome.  I was really just looking for the word Magisterium, but I was also genuinely interested in learning more about magic in Thedas.  This book was unusually forthcoming, and even I could tell it most likely was not Chantry approved.  It made me wonder how Hawke came into possession of it.  The book talked more in depth about the intricacies of magic than any book I’d ever come across in the Chantry library, and I was only skimming this one!

“Do you have any idea,” Fenris started, and I absently looked up only to see that his eyes were trained on me.  Realizing he was actually talking to me, I momentarily paused my page-flicking.  He graciously started his sentence over again for my benefit, “Do you have any idea how annoying that is?”

“Huh?”

“Makers Breath,” Hawke laughed under his breath as he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Fitz, you’ve been turning those pages like a madman.  You aren’t even reading any of it!”

“I’m speed reading,” I said without missing a beat.

“You’re looking for something, so out with it.” Hawke countered.

Pulling the book closer to me, I studied the two men before me.  I decided to just tell them.

“I heard someone talking about something called the ‘Magisterium’ and I wanted to know what it was.”

They both stared at me.  I saw Hawke’s quick dart of the eyes in the direction of the elf sitting beside him before they were trained back on me.  Surprisingly, it was Fenris who spoke first.

“Where did you hear this?”

“Uh, like, the docks, I think? I dunno, I was just eavesdropping while I was waiting for a friend. I just remember hearing the word ‘Magisterium’ and wondering about what it was.”

“And what do you think it is?”

“Um, something to do with mages?” Believe it or not, I could deduce some parts of the word and assume that it had to do with mages.

Fenris stared at me like I was incomprehensively stupid.

“You have honestly never heard of the Magisterium before?” He questioned.

Feeling more defensive, I quickly responded. “Well, what d’ya think I’m asking for?”

“Magisters? Tevinter?” Hawke interjected, watching me for any signs of recognition.  It clicked suddenly, if a bit vaguely.  I remembered all at once that Fenris was actually from Tevinter; had been a slave there for nearly his entire life to some noble mage.  I put the pieces together and realized that the Magisterium was a part of Tevinter.

It was like the classic ‘oh shit’ moment and I felt horrible for bringing it up, and for forgetting; not that I knew a whole lot more than the ‘runaway slave’ part of Fenris’ backstory.  He didn’t really do the sharing thing while I was around and it’s not something you ask about, with him or any of the others, you know?

I didn’t necessarily mean to play off my embarrassment with awkward laughter, but I did. 

“Heh, my bad…I didn’t connect it to Tevinter,” I closed my book with a gentle snap and stood up. “Haha, guess I’m done here.” I put the book back in its original spot, and probably would’ve left the entire house if Hawke hadn’t stopped me.

“Fitz,” He started, sounding like he was trying really hard not to sigh out of exasperation, or maybe he just trying not to laugh at my noticeable embarrassment. “I just want to remind you of how late it is. And how there is no way you are walking back to the alienage at this time of night.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I knew that.” I made a face in the opposite direction of the two of them. “’Kay, well I’m goin’ to bed then. Night!” I gave them both a wave, which only Hawke returned.

I left the room feeling extremely stupid, but also relieved.  There was no point in pursuing the matter of the Magisterium anymore.  My mind had been going in the direction of an underground mage cult-like thing; and I guess it’s still kind of like a mage cult, only definitely not underground.  Instead, from what I’ve gathered from brief mentions of the place, it was more like a full-on country ruled by mages who practice blood-magic.  To make it an even lovelier place, slavery is well alive and thriving and elves seemed to be a favorite for slavers everywhere.  It chilled me to the core just thinking about it, so I preferred not to.

In any case, with that out of the way, the only thing I had to worry about was the possibility that Dead Eyes was able to send word about me to his brother spies or whatever.  Not a day went by that I wasn’t looking over my shoulder, and it only made me more paranoid since I didn’t even know exactly what to look for.  If they were spies, it’s not like they’d wear Tevinter styled clothing or any other sort of convenient identifiers.  Nevertheless, I at least tried to read as much as I could find on Tevinter, which admittedly wasn’t a lot.  It didn’t really help in the long run, but, hey, that’s just life.

~

I feel it is important to also mention my relationship with Hawke, particularly what it was like by the fall of 9:34.  We were close, like I’ve talked about before, and after his mother passed, our closeness was on a different level.  My fondest memories of Kirkwall were the times we’d spent reading his library or having dinner together.  My favorite was always when it was late at night, after a long day, and I’d be reading one of his books while he wrote a letter to one of his many admirers and the like.  Other times, it’d be me and my book by the fireplace in the common area and Hawke & co playing cards at the table nearby.  It wasn’t the same without Isabela and we were all a little more tired than usual, but it was still fun.

However, I think I liked it best when it was just the two of us.  We would sit together and not talk for hours, which, if you knew Hawke, was amazing and probably unheard of.  He would oftentimes play with my hair, which was growing longer than I’d ever had it, and not even realize that he was doing it.  I never pointed it out, though.  He’d let me lean against him when I was reading and, if I ever fell asleep, I’d wake up in his bed with him snoring beside me.

I have to say this now; I’m not good with romance or sexual tension or whatever the hell it’s called.  That being said, I think we had some moments.  Special moments where I probably could’ve kissed him and he might’ve kissed back, if only for a second.  But I never did anything about it and neither did he.  I never had much initiative with these sort of things to begin with, so I just followed his cues.  And, to me, he made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to go that route.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	24. I'm Leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me

It was a stupid fight.  I can barely even remember what started this fight; all I remember is that it was stupid, rash, and had more to do with outside factors than anything truly personal.  But, it happened and we never got the chance to take it back, so here it is.

I did something dumb, not so out of the usual, but tensions were at the breaking point for everyone, Hawke included.  I think I had gone out with a couple of the others from the alienage, at night or maybe it was just us starting trouble in the docks or something.  Either way, someone told Hawke and he basically picked me up like an angry soccer mom and dragged me back to his mansion where he actually started yelling at me. 

I should probably talk about the age thing first.  Everybody liked to comment and joke about my age and it was one of those things that got annoying after a while, you know?  Like, there were only so many baby jokes I could handle before they started getting on my nerves.  I think it hit so hard because; here I was, forced into a world where I basically _had_ to mature in order to freaking survive.  I couldn’t act like a kid, not really.  I had Hawke and everyone else, that was true, but I also never felt truly comfortable freeloading off of them.  They weren’t my parents; I couldn’t just expect them to pick up all my messes and to provide me with all my basic needs. 

Besides, I had a crash course in survival when I’d escaped Marcella and lived as a street urchin for a few months.  Hell, I was paying rent when I was seventeen.  If I was back home, I’d probably be saving up for a new cell phone or the newest PlayStation.   Whereas, in this world, I was just trying to earn enough money so that I could buy some bread for dinner and still make rent at the same time.  Yeah, I get that I’m not the only kid from my world to ever go through hard times, but speaking as a middle-class American from a nice neighborhood in Brooklyn, I never knew what it was like to go hungry for days or to literally have no place to go at night.  So, at the end of the day, I didn’t feel like a kid and I couldn’t find it in myself to laugh along when the other made jokes over it.  I couldn’t hold back the anger that always bubbled up when Hawke would join in. 

It seemed like he was emphasizing our age difference, every time he’d tell me to go home before it got dark out and every time he wouldn’t let me go out with him and the others, even though I was getting stronger.  I trained regularly and I even managed to impress Fenris once, when he saw me trip Hawke up during a sparring match.  It was like a punch in the gut to be denied like that, and I definitely took it as rejection.  I convinced myself that Hawke would never see me as anything other than a younger brother; someone who had to be protected but not really included.  I felt like I’d never be strong enough to get past my ‘kid status’ and it stung. 

Our final fight brought all of this up.  I said some things that I didn’t mean, and he said some things that I hoped to god he didn’t mean either.  Even if I can’t exactly remember what caused it, I remember the words.

~

“Maker’s balls, Fitz!” Hawke exclaimed, slamming his bag down onto his writing desk while I stood, slouched, in the middle of living room.  “What is it about ‘danger’ that you do not understand? How could you have been so reckless?”

I scowled at his back, “Reckless? You do shit that’s twice as bad–”

“Oh, don’t compare us.” He turned around to glare at me and the severity of it took me slightly off guard. “When I get into trouble I can get myself out of it. You’ve only just gotten the hang of using daggers.”

“Yeah, so? I don’t need to be as jacked as you to get out of trouble.  Anyways, we knew what we were doing.  We’re not children.” I said, a bit aggressively.

He laughed; not with good humor, but with a meanness that stung. “Yes. Yes, you are.  Only children sneak out to draw on walls.  At night.  In one of the most dangerous parts of this city.”

I barely even noticed as Bodahn slid out of the room, with Sandal in tow, because I was beginning to see red.

“I can do what I want.  Unfortunately, you’re not in charge of what I do in my free time.”

“When your free time involves trying to get yourself killed, I believe I’m allowed to intervene.  Do you have any idea of the reports I’ve been hearing lately?  Not only has there been more crime, but–”

“I’m on the streets every day.  I know what’s going on.” I said coldy. “And I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t do.”

“Are you sure about that?” He countered angrily. “You must be awfully stupid if you think walking around the docks at night is a brilliant idea.”

“Oh, so now I’m stupid, huh? Please tell me more about how stupid I am.”  
“Rea–” He cut himself off and took a deep breath. “Can we please be mature about this?”

“I dunno, do you permit it?  If you do, then I suppose it’s law.”

“Maker,” He pulled at his hair in frustration. "How mature.  You're really helping your case here."

"It's a case now?  Am I on trial or somethin'?"

He just glared.  I stared back at him with my arms crossed and getting more pissed off by the minute.  To be fair, I think he was too.

“Is that how you’re going to be?” He snapped. “Because, that’s exactly how a _child_ would act right now.”

“More like I’m tryin’ to tell you to fuck off with the micro-management.  You’re not my fuckin’ father, Hawke.  And I’m _not_ a fuckin’ kid.”

“You’re certainly acting like one.  Otherwise, you’d realize that I’m just trying to look out for you.”

I probably could’ve fixed it then, if I had calmed down.  But my ability to hold onto anger was still great and long-lived. 

“Yeah, and I don’t fuckin’ need ya to.” I spat at him. “I can take care of myself, too, ya know.”

“Oh, yes.  And you have such a great history at staying out of trouble.  Tell me, how many fights have you gotten into due to your temper?”

“Lay off.  It don’t matter.  I’m talkin’ bout fuckin’ survival.  You can call me a kid all you like, but I haven’t been a kid in _years_.  I can’t fuckin’ afford it, yeah?”

I didn’t stop there, I had to go on a whole rant at him.

“You know, before you graciously waltzed into my life, I was doin’ perfectly fine all on my own.  I didn’t ask you to adopt me and, you know what, it’s not like I _never_ listen to you.  You’re actin’ like I been goin’ out late at night, _every_ night, just to fuckin spite you.  This was the first time I been out in forever, and I was in a fuckin’ group, so what the fuck’s your deal?  Or do you just get off on tellin’ people what to do?”

Hawke’s eyes were wide and he was still clearly angry; I could hear it in his voice. “You’re missing my point entirely.  Maybe if you calmed down, you’d finally listen to me.”

“Or, you know, you could fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Oh, really?” Hawke’s eyebrows were raised as high as they could go and he had a sarcastic grin on his face as he continued talking, “Listen to you? Are you actually going to tell me anything real?  Or will you just lie? Are you even capable of telling the truth?”

I had a wild urge to hit him, but I backed away from him instead.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never tell me anything.  At least, nothing that's actually important.  You never speak about yourself–”

“I do–”

He spoke right over me, raising his voice, “You won’t tell me where you’re from or how you even got to this city."  Hawke began to pace, occasionally throwing an arm out in emphasis, and he kept going.

"You say you’re just reading books, and yet all it ever looks like it research.” At my wide eyes, he nodded his head vigorously and went on, “Oh, yes.  Despite common belief, I do in fact know what researching looks like.  It doesn’t even make sense.  How a poor city-elf even got to be so educated.”

“Oh my god.” I said, turning away from him and staring at the ceiling. “What’s it even matter?”

Hawke pushed back into my space; standing right in front of my once more and a breath away from my face. “Because it means you’re hiding something."

"It’s been years, and you still don’t trust me.”

“Oh, I trust you–”

“No, you don’t.” He looked deflated.  The anger was still there, but it was sadder this time. “You won’t let yourself trust anyone.”

I didn’t have an immediate response, so I could only let a tense silence fill the air.  I wiped a hand across the side of my face and tried not to start cursing.

“I’m not talkin’ bout this.” I said, backing up again.  Hawke didn’t follow.  “I don’t got an answer for you.”

“It wasn’t a question.” He said back.

He may have said that, but we both knew that wasn’t true.  Hawke wanted to know _why_ I was always lying; lying and hiding shit.  He was asking why I didn’t trust him.  And I couldn’t even tell him.

“I…I’m leaving.”

Hawke stopped me from walking away, “It’s late.  Just stay here tonight.”

I stayed where I was.  I couldn’t find it in me to clarify myself, so I just listened to him.  I took one of the many empty rooms in his mansion and sat on the bed with my head in my hands.  Hawke didn’t understand and I didn’t want to explain it to him.  Part of me wanted to prove that I could survive on my own.  Another part was still angry; at both Hawke and myself. 

I watched the sunrise in that room.  I convinced myself that it was for the best, and I still stand by my decision to this day, even though I regret it a little bit. 

Every day I spent in that city was another day of lies, pain, and worry.  Every day in Kirkwall was dangerous; between the mages and the Qunari (and the fucking humans), there were so many factors that could fuck everything up.  

My oddity was bound to be found out, one way or another; whether it be from getting kidnapped again or just by accident.  And, god knows that would probably just cause a whole new world of problems that would involve way more people than necessary.  I didn’t want anyone to know about me; not Hawke, not our friends, and definitely none of the other fuck-ups in that city.  

I didn’t want to be looked at differently by the others, and I didn’t want to talk about it.  I physically couldn't bring myself to talk about it, my past and everything, and I don't know why.  It was too painful to think of my father and of Scott, and how I could barely recall what their faces looked like or how my memories of home were blurry at best; constantly vague and full of 'maybe's and 'I think's.  It was easier to just push all that down and focus on the present; on trying to find a way back, but also on just plain surviving the everyday.  Talking about it would make it all too fucking real and, let's be real, it would be too confusing.  Some no-name, wacked-out mage created a rift between worlds and some guy happened to fall through?  They'd think I was insane.

Besides, there was also the worst case scenario to think about; the one where I’m treated like an abomination.  And, god, I know Hawke’s tolerant, but I didn’t want to test it.  He’d probably feel like he had to break himself to fix it, even if he hated me.

That was another thing.  I was goddamn sick and tired of being a burden.  I didn’t want to be protected anymore and I didn’t want to hold them back.  The angry side of me reasoned that Hawke would never deem me strong enough to be their equal; probably none of them would. 

~

So, that stupid, pointless fight was basically the last straw.  After it was over, I made the biggest decision of my life, in that room in the back of Hawke’s mansion.  It took me a few days to follow through on it, but I did.

I stood up from the bed and looked out the wide window.  I stared down at the small trickle of people just beginning to go about their day and traced one finger on the glass as I unfocused my eyes from the view.  I swallowed all my reservations and anxiety even though my fingers still trembled slightly.

“I’m leaving.” I whispered as I looked beyond the blurry images of the city.  Instead, I focused on the horizon and the clouds that drifted ever so slowly to the left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this kicks off a completely new direction i wanna take fitz in, and im super excited!  
> i dont know yet if this is the last chapter of this part of fitz' story - i might add one last chapter to wrap it up (or i might just do that in Part 2)  
> i would really love to hear what you think, criticism and all!  
> thank you all so much for reading and i hope you continue to do so :)


	25. Act II: A New Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of Act II! I was gonna put it in a whole new work, but figured this was easiest.

When I left Kirkwall, it was on a ship.  Okay, so _obviously_ it was on a ship, I mean it’s not like there was a plane I could catch.  And, oh dear god, are ships awful.  I’ve never gone cross a bloody ocean before, let alone been stored in the deep belly of a giant ship.  It sucked, but I really was lucky I got aboard anyways.  I just barely had enough money saved up (I might’ve gotten ripped off, but whatever) to buy my way onto a last minute departure.  I can’t say I thought out my leaving very well, or thoroughly, but all that matters is that I made it out and to Ferelden in one piece. 

It was just me for a while, for a good couple of years.  I town-hopped frequently and my experiences taught me more about living carefully than ever before.  I had to be careful not draw any attention.  There were only ever a handful of elves actually living in the small towns I visited, and usually they stuck to the outskirts.  I chose my towns based on how indifferent its residents acted towards the sights of a strange, travelling elf.  I think I was lucky not to find too much hostility, but I had my fair share of close calls, that’s for sure.  If anyone stared for too long, with too mean of a look, I was out of there.  I didn’t want to play with fate or luck, or whatever; the whole point of moving to this dumb country was to try my hand at surviving.  Needless to say, getting myself killed by some backwards racists would _not_ be considered successful.

Ferelden was cold and full of trees.  As I travelled, I saw more mountains than ever before, and even more impressive than Sundermount.  My travels made me wonder if I was anywhere close to where Hawke came from.  I thought about asking some of the kinder looking strangers where Lothering was, but I always chickened out.  It was probably better if I didn’t think about Hawke anyways.  It just hurt.

It was tough for a while, not just at first.  I think it took months before I even managed to get myself a passable map of the area (it was discarded and mud-splattered, but I could make out at least half of it).  I spent most of those years in towns, or on the outskirts of them, before I decided I was ready to live amongst nature.  To be honest, I didn’t even try to live like Bear Grylls until just a few months before the Conclave.  Most of it had to do with the complete and utter hell that had descended on Ferelden in that year leading up to the Conclave. 

The Mage-Templar war made it even more difficult to town-hop.  Travelling was dangerous, as was actually settling anywhere.  You never knew if you were gonna wake up to see the whole town on fire, and, alternately, you never knew if you were gonna happen to cross blood magic going down in the woods during your trek to the next town over.  Templars showed up everywhere and were suspicious of _everything_ , especially lone wanderers who show up one random night looking for a place to stay.  After one or two scuffles with the ‘law’, I figured it was better to lay low and away from civilization for a while.  I even did a pretty good job with the whole secluded loner thing, though that was before the slavers came into play.  But that’s another story, I still want to write about the ‘good old days’ of my journeys across Ferelden.

In the towns I stayed in, I usually always found work in the local tavern.  For the most part, bar owners were in dire need of a lowly servant to clean everything and act as an errand boy.  The real work was just convincing them of this dire need.  I completely lied and told them I had experience working at a bar in Kirkwall, but I think I spent enough time in the Hanged Man to warrant the lie.  Like I said, most of the tavern owners hired me on.  The few times that persuasion didn’t work out, I usually just ended up leaving for another town.  Unfortunately, I sometimes found myself in situations where I was jobless and literally without the means necessary for me to continue with my travels.

In the first few months after arriving in northern Ferelden, my boots finally kicked the bucket.  Since Thedas didn’t have such a thing as ducktape, I was forced to scrounge for money to buy a new pair of boots.  In such a rocky and hilly terrain, I wouldn’t have survived without a good pair of boots (and warmer clothes).  My winter coat, the ugly one from back home that was on its last legs even when I first came to Thedas, had to be tossed a month after the boots fiasco.  That resulted in another scramble to earn enough money to buy a new wardrobe.  Both instances happened when I was unable to get reliable work, so I had to break my back earning barely enough money for a meal let alone material items.  Those times were hard because I usually went without food for long periods of time and I slept on the streets more than in an actual room.

Luckily, I also came across my fair share of nice people.  I never stuck around long enough to go past the kind stranger phase (for obvious reasons), but the experience was enough to brighten some of my darker days.  I met one old man who actually gave me his own hat when I had to say goodbye to an old cowl I’d found in a barrel, back from when I first arrived in Ferelden.  In another instance, a young elven family let me stay on their farm for a couple days.  They fed me and housed me in return for a few days’ hard labor, even though I had told them straight out that I knew literally nothing about farming.  The wife had also knitted me a sweater and presented it to me on the day of my departure.  Aside from my shock at the last minute gift, I marveled at the utter kindness the family had treated me with. 

As I was leaving, the two small children followed me to the farm’s edge and told me that they used to have an uncle who looked just like me.  I noted the past tense, and it made me think of the soft look the mother always wore when she looked at me.  Everything became a bit clearer after that realization, if not sadder.  I was still eternally grateful, because while I had ended up buying a nice enough coat, I needed all the extra padding I could get.

~

I don’t have a whole lot more to say about those years, except that I grew up.  I spent just a little over seven years making it on my own and not one time did I have to worry about lying to anyone who actually mattered.  I didn’t have anyone who mattered anymore.

There’s a lot that happened during those years that I don’t really remember clearly anymore, aside from the few instances I just talked about.  It’s really in those few months before the Conclave that are probably the most important to talk about.

I mentioned slavers earlier, so I’ll start with them.

They caught me when I was making camp one afternoon.  I had been steadily making my way more inland before I was made aware of the existence, and abundance, of bears within the deathscape known as Ferelden.  I immediately turned tail and headed back for the coast, luckily without any incident of a mauling nature.  Instead, I ran right into the hands of some slavers.

They already had a group of captives when I was dragged into their camp.  I had just returned from hunting (I only managed to catch a weird pig creature, which at the time I was only half-certain was called a nug), and I’d found an innocent enough looking clearing that I thought would be perfect for camp.  I didn’t get to even start a fire, two men sprang at me from behind some trees and a scuffle ensued.  They had surprise on their side, and bulk, but I was quick and, after arriving in Ferelden, I had made a daily routine of practicing the moves I’d learned in Kirkwall. 

The shoddy bow I’d bought from a crook merchant many months ago was useless in such a close quarters brawl, and I never got a chance to pull out my dagger since the assholes descended upon me like vultures with vice-like grips.  I sacrificed the well-being of my head in order to headbutt the chin of the man directly behind me, as he had both my arms pulled back and was trying to tie my hands together.  His grip loosened and I tore myself away, only to fall into the waiting grasp of his accomplice.  Instead of fooling around, this guy knocked me flat out with a punch to the face.  I didn’t come to until I was already tied to an already long line of people. 

I woke with the stiff feeling of dried blood on my face.  I could feel it covering a good portion of the right side of my face and I found the wounds location when I furrowed my eyebrows at the headache I had (presumably from the headbutt and the subsequent punch).  A sharp pain echoed in my right eyebrow, of all places.  At my movements, I even felt it start bleeding again.  I cursed, and couldn’t even touch my face because my hands were securely tied behind my back.  The guy to my left, an elf, turned his head slightly to look at me.

“Tell me the truth,” I drawled. “Are my good looks ruined forever?”

He turned even more.  His face clearly showed his confusion; like he never heard of someone making inappropriately timed jokes before.  He glanced at the fire a few yards away, where the slavers were congregated and paying us no mind whatsoever, before answering me.

“There’s a gash right in the middle of your eyebrow.  That’s all.” He whispered.

“Tell that to my killer headache.” I replied.

“No fucking talking.” One of the slavers, who must’ve been hidden out of my line of sight (I couldn’t see out of my right eye, it was fucking swollen shut by the way), barked at me.  He kicked me too, before walking back to wherever he was standing guard over us captives.  I almost, stupidly, said something back, but the guy next to me cut me off with one sharp look.  Right.  No antagonizing brutish thugs. 

I probably sat there cursing my fucking luck for a few hours.  In any case, nothing interesting happened until most of the slavers were asleep.  My wrists were rubbed raw from trying to get out of the coarse rope that bound me and I was taking a break from my squirming when I saw the first guard drop.  One of the captives way down the line gasped, and was very quickly shushed.  The other guard dropped right after that.  The stupid slavers only put two guys on night watch. 

Then, I saw a lithe figure drop from the trees.  They weren’t holding a bow like I would’ve assumed.  Instead, they had a thin staff.

I watched, tensed, as they picked their way around the camp, clearing heading in our direction.  They reached us quickly and paused to observe our bindings.  All of our hands were tied up behind our backs, but a length of rope connected our hand ties so that we formed one long line.  None of us could move meaningfully without pulling along the rest of the line.  Instead of using the staff, our savior simply moved their hands and in one swift movement I saw the binds on one captive drop as if the rope had just slid out of the knots.  It was a rather slow process, since it looked like the trick only worked one at a time.  I would be last, which figured, but I wasn’t about to complain.  I watch the other victims make it to the trees and disappear. 

Of course, it couldn’t go that smoothly all the way through.  Our savoir had just undone the ropes on the guy next to me when it all went to hell.  One of the slavers must’ve woken up, but it felt like all of them woke up at once with how quickly mayhem spread.  Soon our savior was busy throwing spells at the men running at them, or her if I’m guessing correctly.  All of the other captives darted for the trees and didn’t look back, except for the guy next to me.  Bless his heart, he crouched behind me and fiddled with my own binds.

“Oh my god.  Thank you so much,” I practically gushed, trying to stay silent since it seemed like all the slavers were focusing their attention on the mage and I didn’t want to break that.

“…there,” The guy said as my ropes fell. “Good luck.”  And with those last words, he turned tail and ran for the trees.  For a moment, I sat there with my newfound freedom and looked to the left where our magicky friend was fighting for their life against a whole gang.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Before I could think twice, I lunged for the still unconscious body of the night watch next to me and picked up his sword.  I hesitated, fiddling with the sword so that I could get a feel for it.  It was heavier than I usually went for, but I could still do damage.  I entered the fray, swinging and hacking, though thankfully most of the slavers had already been dropped by the mage.  The mage’s hood had fallen back in the fight, showing off the concentrated face of a young woman who looked to be around my age.  I could also tell that she was very clearly elven as her ears jutted straight out in a long, sloping manner.  She was panting, and her spell work was getting sloppy as her desperation seemed to grow.  She was cornered by two slavers and they might’ve even gotten the better of her if I hadn’t been there. 

I had just stabbed one of the last slavers, and he fell immediately, when I saw bursts of fire magic land around me.  I would’ve been completely screwed if it weren’t for my unique circumstances, but, as it was, I just turned around, unharmed, and headed for the slaver that was poised to attack the mage from behind.  The opponent in front of the mage was on fire (and as good as dead though he was running around in a panic) and she was taking a well-deserved breather when the other guy tried to attack.  I say tried, because my borrowed sword sank into his side before he even swung his.  I pulled out and watched him fall with a satisfying thud before I turned to the mage.  Her face held a slight amount of surprise, but quite frankly she looked too tired to get emotional over her almost death. 

“I thank you for that.” She said once she could speak without panting. She then added, almost as an afterthought, “And for joining the fight in the first place.”

“Yeah, I figured I owed you that much.” I replied, looking around at the carnage.  I didn’t really know what to say after that so I put my efforts into looting the bodies instead.  Most of them were dead.  I think only the night watch were unconscious, but I pickpocketed them anyways.  Bastard slavers.

When I looked back at her, I noticed the mage looking at what I was doing with slight distaste though she did seem to change her mind since she joined me after a minute.  Looting’s not bad, it’s just practical.

“Oh, sick!” I exclaimed when I found my old pack underneath one of the bodies, completely unharmed.

“What is it?” The mage shot back.  She hurried over to me and I felt embarrassed as I simply showed her my pack.

“It’s, like, completely untouched.  My wallet’s still in here, too.”

“Wallet?” She asked, confused.

“Money pouch.” I said immediately.  I had gotten so used to being on my own that I had accidentally reverted back to Earth-speak.  It comforted me, kind of like a coping mechanism.

“Now if I can just find my dagger, I’ll be happy as hell.”

“What does it look like?”

“The hilt’s purple, can’t miss it.”

We found it pretty quickly, or actually the mage found it.  She handed it over and, after glancing around, said, “We should leave this place.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”  I followed her even though there was no real reason to anymore.  I chalked it up to human loneliness and left it at that.

I waited until we were farther from the awful clearing before I decided to break the silence.

“So, where you headed? You’re packed light.”

She glanced at me with one eyebrow raised and said, teasingly, “Shouldn’t you ask for my name first?”

“Uh, we could go with that instead. Yeah, sure.”

She barked a laugh and shook her head.  “My name is Amrita.  And you are?”

“Fitz. You from here?”

“No.  My clan has lived in many places, but Ferelden is not one of them.”

I nodded, before I made the connection, “Oh! So you’re Dalish, then? Cool.” 

She gave me a weird look.  “How is that ‘cool’, exactly?” I felt sort of dumb, because I only just noticed the light tattoo that lay on her face, around her left eye.  Although, to be fair, it was extremely faint and it was dark out.

I waved away her question, literally, before continuing.  “Whatcha doing in Ferelden?  Elf business?”

I probably shouldn’t have said the last bit, because her look turned a bit unfriendly.  Her tone was reproachful as well.

“My business is none of yours, shem.”

“Ah, fair enough.”

We walked in awkward silence for a while, and I was actually thinking about breaking off when she finally spoke again.

“Do you…have any idea where we are?” Her words were slow, like she was reluctant to actually speak them.  I shrugged.

“Well, I started my day off a bit north of West Hill and we’ve been walking south this entire time.  Also, I think that river we’ve been following leads to Lake Calenhad.  But that’s just me guessing.”

“Ugh.” She said, looking away from me. “Do you even have a map?”

“Do you?”  
She glared at me, giving me all the answers I needed.  She did give me an excuse, though. “It may have…caught on fire.”

“Awesome. Here’s mine.” I pulled out my cruddy map and handed it over.  She seemed to read it perfectly well, despite the tears and stains.  I was slightly jealous. 

“Actually, I believe you’re right.” She murmured, still looking intently at the map.

“Hah.”

She glanced at me again, and I got the sense that she was working herself up to saying something.  I tried to adopt the most unassuming, friendly face I could call up.  I like to tell myself it worked, because she started talking again.

“Would you like to travel together? Just to the next town.  So I can get my own map.”

I grinned, “Sure! Oh, yo, do you think we can make it to the lake tonight? I think there’s a town there.”

I got another weird look. “Haven’t you heard about the fighting? It’s even worse over there. We have to go _away_ from the lake if we want to survive.  Wait a…where are you even going?”

“Ah, nowhere really.” I scratched the back of my head, laughing a little. “I’ve just been travelling these past few months.” Another weird look, probably because of my vagueness, though you would think she wouldn’t question my nomadic nature considering she was full Dalish.

“I’m soul-searching.” I said, completely deadpan.

“Mhmm.” She replied, rolling her eyes a little.  “Well, how do you feel about heading east to…” She squinted at the map, turning it slightly sideways as she studied it. “The Crossroads? I think I remember hearing about that as a safe place.”

I shrugged once more. “Sure.”

~

We ended up making camp…somewhere southeast from where we started.  I was used to travelling at night by now, and Amrita seemed to be a pro at it as well, so we really only stopped because of our own tiredness. 

Nighttime was actually the safest time to travel these days.  The fighting was bad, not gonna lie.  Mages and Templars attacked people on sight.  It was all sort of ‘kill first, ask questions never’, if you get me.  It was nice traveling with a partner, too.  Safety in numbers was part of it (I was more shaken up about the slavery mess than I’m letting on, if I’m being completely honest), but it was also nice to have someone to talk to.  Amrita was actually good at that, too.  Her initial frostiness, if I should even call it that, melted away once we started really talking.  I would have even called her ‘talkative’, funnily enough.  After a few pleasantries were exchanged over our campfire, she offered to heal my eyebrow which I had honestly forgotten all about.  I politely declined, and cleaned it the best I could.  She didn’t push.

I found out that she was heading for the Conclave.  She made it out like her keeper had sent her on this huge mission of the utmost importance, though I didn’t really get why it was such a big deal.  I’d only heard about the Conclave in passing, a few months ago when it was more rumor than actuality.  I didn’t really see what the Chantry could do about the fighting, but that probably had more to do with my disinterest in politics than anything else.

We talked about the Conclave for a fair bit of the night, which helped me ignore the hunger in my stomach.  It was too late to try to hunt anything, and I knew I could hold out.  I’ve felt worse.

“So, you’re a mage-spy.  And an elf-spy.  That’s like a double-whammy.” I commented, laughing at my own words which probably didn’t make all that much sense to Amrita, though I did notice her start to laugh, softly.

“You know, your way of speaking is extremely odd.  Even for a human.”

My laughter cut off.  Wow.  Me, human?  That was a first in this place.  I was confused for a moment, before I remembered how long my hair had gotten.  It covered well over my ears, and curled outward enough so that even the points of my ears didn’t really poke out anymore either.  I patted my hair, idly, and, couldn’t help but think back to a few months ago in the last town I’d been to.  I had been treated rather politely, all things considering.  Like I said, that was many months ago, back when it was colder, and my hair would’ve been just slightly shorter than it was now, but just as curly.  I almost laughed again.  The kindness that I had thought was plain good luck on my part, was most likely just me being mistaken for human.  Or, not being mistaken for an elf, I mean.

“You’ll get used to it.  All Fereldens speak this way.” I informed her.

She nodded, like she believed me, and I tried not to snicker.  As funny as it was, I decided now was the time to change the topic.

“Well, in any case, I’m glad I’m not you.  The Conclave sounds boring as shit.”

She stared at me with wide eyes. “How can you say that?  It could very well result in much needed change, not only for mages but for elves as well.  It could start a move towards a whole new era!”

I shifted, awkwardly.  “Ah, I didn’t mean it like that…I just meant that it would being boring to attend…you know, the talking bit.  It’s probably gonna be all fighting back-and-forths, with big words, you know?  And a lot of posturing on both sides.”

“Oh. That’s what you meant.” Amrita looked down, embarrassed at her show of passion over the Conclave.  I tried to think of other things to say, just to get rid of the awkward silence that descended upon us.

“Oh! You know, I had a friend who was Dalish!” I said eagerly. She looked back at me, with a certain amount of shock. “Uh, I think her clan’s name was…Sabrae? They used to camp just outside of Kirkwall. You ever heard of them?”

“Ah, maybe? I was usually more focused on my studies than on other clans.” Amrita blushed a little at the admittance. “And, besides, my clan mostly stuck to the northern part of the Free Marches.”

She asked the next question. “Were you friends with many Dalish?” Her tone was inquisitive, and definitely interested.

“No, just the one.  Her clan wasn’t really big on humans…er, at least, most of them weren’t.” I tried to recall more from my memories, something about the keeper, but I couldn’t remember.  I just shrugged to signal the end of my sentence, since I had sort of trailed off.

“Hmm,” Amrita looked into the small fire we had made with a thoughtful look on her face. “That’s too bad. I know most clans aren’t ‘really big on humans’, as you say.” She broke off to laugh and I joined her.  When she continued, it was with renewed eagerness, almost like she was excited about the subject.

“My people, Clan Lavellan, are actually different from most.  We have learned much from our human neighbors, though most of our interaction is largely based off of trade.  We feel that we do not have to separate ourselves so completely from all others.  We are different, yes? But, that does not mean we have to hate each other.  Not when it is all based on the past!”

I looked at her, a bit dubiously.  I wondered if she had actually met many humans.  Or if the northern part of the Free Marches was just a weird utopia of some sort. 

“That’s great and all, but…racism is still well and alive today.  Humans aren’t all nice and accepting.”

“I know that.” She smiled like she was teaching me something.  I felt a slight bit of resentment.  “That’s why it’s so important for us to work together to overcome these problems.  Even despite the people who are so obsessed with their own hatred.”

“I guess…”

“Also! That’s why the Conclave is so important, too! Bringing people together…” She trailed off into a yawn, and I noticed for the first time that she looked exhausted.  I figured half of her rant was probably just born from fatigue, or else she really was just that much of an idealist. 

“Why don’t you sleep? I’ll be on watch.”

“When shall we switch?”

I shrugged and looked at the sky. “It’s already pretty late...or early, I mean.  I’ll be fine staying up the entire time.

“Thanks,” She said, yawning again.  She fell asleep almost immediately after hitting the ground.  I stared for a bit in jealousy, before I figured that was pretty creepy of me and looked away.  It always took me forever to fall asleep.  I had to relive at least twenty regrets before my mind put me out of my misery.

I turned my attention back to the sky, keeping my ears open to any sounds that were not foxes or nugs, or the occasional goat.  The night sky was clear and the stars were bright, though we had maybe only an hour or two before sunrise. 

I thought some more about what Amrita said about the Conclave.  This mess of a war had plagued Ferelden for the past year, it was actually weird to think it might almost be over.  I had gotten so used to just avoiding everything, because, fucking hell, everything was so much _work_.  It was so much easier just living by myself in the woods, even if it meant dealing with my own loneliness.

Talking with Amrita made me wish I had her optimism, but I just didn’t.  I didn’t think I had it in me to care about much of anything anymore.  It all just took so much effort and I had already perfected the precise art of ignoring problems, and basically anything that required commitment.

In any case, Amrita seemed like a good person so I wished her luck.  God knows she’d need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was much longer than usual because I honestly couldn't find a good stopping point.   
> I'm finally on winter break so I'm hoping I have more time (and inspiration) for this story!   
> Thanks for sticking with me guys and I really love reading all the comments :))


	26. Act II: The Crossroads

 “So, what’s next for you?” Amrita asked me as we looked out over the fields one morning.  All was still quiet as we had risen early that day; the sun hadn’t even reached past most of the mountains yet.  It was easier to feel at peace at this time of day, and I quickly found that if I woke very early, by sunset I would be bone-tired and sleep would come quicker than normal.  I liked the view as well.

For the past few days, since our arrival at the Crossroads’ village, which dueled as a refugee camp, we had been serving as improvised helpers.  The village itself was in absolute shambles, and refugees outnumbered the actual villagers.  Injured people came in everyday, at all times of the day.  We learned that Redcliffe, which was apparently not too far from this place, had closed their gates and were refusing to help anyone like utter bastards.  The Crossroads were literally the safest place at the moment, though you could not realistically call it an ideal place for refuge. 

Fortunately, Amrita managed to barter for a new map pretty much upon arrival at the village.  She was all set to go forth with her journey, but I think the sight of such despair made her prolong her stay.  She did what she could, with those willing to be healed by a mage.  I alternated between picking herbs and assisting healers with other such mundane tasks. 

“Ah, who knows,” I began to answer her previous question, with an ounce of jaunty humor, “I could go anywhere.  Might finally head back to the coast, if it’s safe…”

Amrita just hummed at me.  When I looked her way, she had on a faint smile and when she felt my eyes on her, it grew. 

“What?”  
“Oh, nothing.  Nothing.  We should probably see if they need help.”  She nodded at two women who were attempting to set up a food station for the refugees.  We knew from experience that they would be swarmed in a matter of seconds.

“Cool, cool.  But, if that asshole from yesterday gives me shit again, I’ma punch him.”

Amrita’s high-pitched laughter filled the area, attracting a fair few looks though she gave them no mind. 

“I might actually like to see that!” She exclaimed and I could tell that she was remembering the pushy bastard from yesterday’s morning meal.  He’d pushed his way to the front and proceeded to tell me off on my portioning when I gave him a bowl.  One of the women beside me had taken over then, probably so that it didn’t escalate into a fight even though the guy totally deserved a good punch. 

“However, let’s not start trouble for these nice women, alright?” Amrita gave me a meaningful look which I only responded to by raising my eyebrows at her while keeping a disinterested expression on my face.  I made no promises and she just shook her head at me.

Her warnings turned out to be irrelevant.  The morning went by without too much trouble and I didn’t have to punch a single person.  Amrita and I were separated at some point during midday and I did not see her again until it was almost dusk.

She caught me when I was assisting a healer patch up a rather badly burned refugee.  Amrita waited by the entrance to the tent, which had the flaps pulled back for easy in-and-out access.  It came in handy since I had to keep going back and forth for fresh water, though it almost meant Amrita could stand just outside the tent and make faces at me while I was working.  I appreciated the gestures; it took my mind off the gore all around me.  I found myself wondering, in the midst of blood and guts, how the hell Anders had run an entire clinic by himself.  But that brought my mind to places I really did not want to go.  I didn’t know the whole story, of course, but I had heard enough stories to know just how much trouble had gone down in Kirkwall in the years after I’d left.  It brought up feelings of even more guilt and self-hate, for leaving Hawke and the others to deal with that, but I was a pro at ignoring those types of feelings (for the most part).  The past was the past; the present was all that mattered as of now, especially since it really fucking sucked.

Fortunately, my work day ended very soon after the healer was done with the burn patient.  For me that meant that I was free to finally bathe, which I sorely needed to do.  I shouldered my pack, which I never let out of my sight these days, and headed out.

“Bath?” I offered as I passed Amrita.  She fell into step beside me as I headed for a small, hidden stream that lay just beyond camp.  I had found it on the first day we got here, and it was quite convenient for privacy purposes.

“I already took one.  I’ll just watch.” She joked, and I gave her a mock disgusted face.

“I can’t blame you, but hands off.”

She lifted her hands up in the universal sign of ‘totally not touching’, before replying, "I will be completely chaste."

When we got there, she sat on a rock and kept watch for potential threats as I bared all in the middle of the small stream.  The spot was well-encased in trees, but close enough that we could hear the faint din of camp-life.  It was still best to go in pairs, though.

“Catch!” A bar of soap landed perfectly in my hands, which I had hastily raised.

“Aw, shit yeah!” I practically yelled out, excited over the prospect of soap.  “Oh, you goddess.”

Amrita laughed and shook her head. “You’re so weird.”

I didn’t bother responding.  Once I got into the water, I made quick work of getting clean.  It may not have been winter, but it was still getting chilly as the sun set.  When I finished with the soap, I chucked it back at Amrita with little warning and was subsequently amused by the rather funny-sounding squawk she emitted as she scrambled to catch the bar. 

One last rinse and I left the stream.  I shook off as much water as I could since all I had was a pretty small scrap of a towel to dry myself off with.  With that done, I finally pulled my clothing back on, although I opted to wear my (clean) sweater instead of my rather bloody tunic. 

The sweater was the same one I had received years ago from the kind elven farmers.  It had lasted well despite time, though it’s age (and constant use) showed in the frayed hems and the multitude of patches that littered the entire thing.  You also couldn’t really tell that it used to be blue, since it now resembled more of a murky gray color.

It was at the sweater that I felt Amrita’s attention drawn to.  Despite her earlier words, she had made it a point to keep her eyes directed away from me, out of common curtesy as much as it was for standing guard.  Now that I was decent, however, she stared right at my wizened sweater with scrutiny.

“Fitz,” She began, and I readied myself in case I had to defend my poor sweater. “Maybe it is time for you to buy some new clothes.  Or, at least, a shirt that isn’t mostly holes.”

“I patched the worst ones.” I countered, clutching at the material. “Besides, I’m fuckin’ broke.”

“I will donate to such a good cause.”   
I side-eyed her. “That’s…nice. But, unnecessary.”

She sighed. “If you’re sure.”

I collected all my things and together we headed back for camp.  I mirrored Amrita’s pace, which was suspiciously slow.  Eventually I couldn’t take the silence any more.

“What is it?”  
“Huh?” She jumped, looking at me with confusion. 

“I can practically hear you thinking over there.  You’ve got something else to say, so just say it.”

She didn’t answer immediately, so I just calmly watched her play with her hair as we neared camp.  She twisted her long, black braid distractedly, a habit I had observed of her since the first day of our weird acquaintance.  When she did finally speak, her words took me off guard.

“I know you are…travelling at the moment.  Soul-searching.” She smiled briefly. “But, if you want, you could always come with me to the Conclave.  It might be fun, and less dangerous than being right at the heart of the war.”

I hesitated, not wanting my words to come out carelessly.  “I…thank you.  You might be right, but I just don’t think it’s for me, you know?  I’d rather avoid all the politics, if you get me.  I mean, I’m not exactly a people-person anyways.”

We reached the outskirts of the camp, and we could clearly see the last meal of the day being served as I finished my sentence.  I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt Amrita’s hand on my shoulder.

Her grip was light, meant to be a friendly gesture of understanding, which I could see radiating in her eyes.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Fitz.  I just thought I’d offer.  I thought it might be nice to travel together for a little while longer, but I understand.” She smiled at me and withdrew her hand.  Her next words were rejuvenated with a change of subject. 

“Anyways! Let us move on, before all the food is gone, yes?”

She departed, heading straight for the food station without any hesitation.  I tried not to gape after her.

I might’ve stayed where I was for a moment longer, before my brain caught up and I was rushing to get food myself.  As sappy as it sounds, I couldn’t help but think about Amrita’s hand on my shoulder, and how I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that with only friendly intentions.  Even more staggering was the fact that she actually wanted to continue travelling with me. 

Believe it or not, Amrita was becoming the first friend I’d made in _years_.  I had made friendly acquaintances during some of my stints as the bar-help in the towns I had visited, but they never went beyond pleasantries and jokes, and they never really left the tavern either.  However, me and Amrita had become fast companions since we saved each other’s asses just a few days ago.  It almost made me sad to think about having to part ways, but I pushed it down.

When I joined Amrita with a small bowl of stew, the rest of our evening was pretty lax.  Though she did wind up mentioning the wound on that was still festering on my eyebrow.  She thought it was infected, and I told her I was treating it (this was a discussion we've had multiple times since arriving to the Crossroads).  

"You know, Fitz, if you would just let me do a very simple, _very small_ spell on it, the hair might even grow back." She practically pleaded with me, ignoring the last few spoonfuls of her stew in favor of convincing me to let her heal me.  

"Nah, I'm good.  Besides, it'll look totally rad cut down the middle like that."

She leveled me a dubious look as she finally returned to her meal, "Maybe, unless the infection spreads.  It would not look very 'rad' then, whatever that means."

"I told you it wasn't infected.  I _know_ how to treat wounds."

After that small tiff, we just shared meaningless stories that only served the purpose of creating laughter and smiles between us.  As most people went to sleep, Amrita and I stayed up for a little longer, though we did quiet down. 

During a lull in our conversation, Amrita told me she was finally planning to move on.

“The Conclave is still a few weeks away, but I must factor in the unexpected, I suppose.” She glanced my way and I couldn’t help but agree with her.  She still had quite the journey ahead of her, and it would be best to arrive early to the Conclave, in any case.

“I think I’ll head out at sunrise.” She said, now sounding determined.

“I’ll see you off.” I said casually.  “Tell you to have a safe journey and all that.”

“I would appreciate it.” She replied, laughing. 

"And, Fitz, good luck.  Where ever you end up travelling, I wish you the best.  Also, allow me to give you this."

"Ugh, you didn't."

But, she did.  Amrita handed me a new tunic, which must've cost her dearly seeing as it didn't even look pre-owned.  However, I did know she could barter the socks off anyone, so maybe it didn't put her back much.  Maybe.

"Thank you." I told her sincerely, holding the blue material out in front of me so that I could properly admire it.

"Think nothing of it," She said indulgently, and I had the sneaking suspicion that she was loving this.  She was probably the type of person who took absurd pleasure in giving gifts for no reason. 

"Blue is a good color on you.  It goes well with your skin tone." 

"What, you a fashionista now?" 

She laughed. "Well, I do have eyes. Brown and blue go well with each other."

"Ah, I guess I should just be happy you didn't say 'caramel and sapphire', huh?" I said back, rolling my eyes.  Amrita laughed once more, and I joined in, but we were summarily hushed by a tent nearby.  That was our cue to put our talks to rest.  We settled in and it really only took me a few minutes before I was sound asleep.  

The next morning saw us hesitating on the outskirts of camp, saying our goodbyes.

“If you ever decide to visit the northern part of the Free Marches, you better look for Clan Lavellan.  And we don't run humans off, so you have no excuse.  I won’t be able to forgive you if you don’t come to see me.”

I grinned, “I would never.  I think that would be nice.” And I truly did feel that way.  Though I wasn't too keen on going back to the Free Marches, it would be nice to see Amrita again some day.

I waved her off, but didn’t hang around to watch her walk away.  Camp was starting to stir and I knew by now that there was a ton of work to be done.  I rather liked being kept busy, especially when it meant that I was actually _helping_ others.  It was a nice feeling, to be useful. 

Amrita had her job, but maybe mine was better suited sticking with the refugee camp.  At least until this whole war thing blew over. 

~

We didn’t receive word of the explosion until over a week after it happened.  Instead, we had a week of pure unadulterated panic as out of nowhere the sky turned green and demons were being spat out from everywhere.  More refugees came into the camp, only this time it was demons and weird holes in the sky that forced them from their homes.  I didn’t fucking get it at the time, and still don’t completely understand it all.  It was fucked up.

But, the Conclave.  All we knew was that nearly everyone died, including the head of the freaking Chantry or whatever.  As if the demons weren’t bad enough, many people at camp became even more demoralized with the failure of the Conclave, myself included.    

All signs pointed to Amrita’s death; she would have been in there at the time it all went to shit, and people were saying that _no one_ survived.  It wasn’t until a few days later that we actually heard about the sole survivor of the Conclave.  One lone survivor who was being held accountable for not only the explosion, but the giant fucking green hole in the sky.  It was all so fucked, and if there weren’t so many injured, I would’ve been heading for hills.  Find a nice secluded mountain that nobody’s ever stepped in and wait out the fucking apocalypse like a coward.  It was a nice thought, even if it was extremely impractical and would probable just get me killed even faster. 

Regardless, everything was just plain awful for a good few weeks.  We had more refugees than we could accommodate and not enough people to fight back a demon horde, should that day have ever came (which, thankfully, it didn’t).  Hope didn’t come back until we heard that the lone survivor of the Conclave had become the Herald of Andraste, and that they had the power to close all the pesky demon-shitting holes. 

Some group calling themselves the Inquisition had popped up out of nowhere and were apparently backing this ‘Herald’.  It reeked of politics, but it was honestly too early to have any sort of opinion on them.  Everything I heard was mixed with rumors, or exaggeration, and I had learned long ago to take everything with a grain of salt. 

As it were, the latest rumor to hit the Crossroads was that this Inquisition was heading straight for us.  I could only hope that they brought fucking supplies, because we were at our wits end.  We had one Chantry Mother running this place and next to no food coming in.  There was game, of course, but we were more likely to die going that far into the hills, what with the ongoing Mage-Templar battles (you’d think they’d give it a fucking break, but no) and the onslaught of demons invading the entire area. 

However, I still went out daily to hunt for herbs.  One of the healers usually paired me up with someone else, like a herb-gathering team.  It made it safer to have someone who at least knew how to fight and, by now, almost everyone at the Crossroads knew about my skillset.  I killed my fair share of rogue Templars and mages during those days, and I even got a few stray demons that wandered too close to camp. 

Unfortunately, we didn’t have all that many people who were skilled with the sword.  Instead, we were overrun with injured and sick refugees; stuck without any prospects of help from anywhere, including stupid Redcliffe, even though it was a stone’s throw away from us.  So, in all, we had absolutely no reason to be opposed to a visit from this fledgling Inquisition.  Besides, I think most people were desperate enough for anything at that point, especially since the Chantry (and whoever else was in charge) were all just sitting around with their thumbs up their asses.   

Honestly, my main hope throughout that whole time was that a demon wouldn’t try to kill me in front of everyone.  There was literally no way for me to explain why the fuck I was completely untouched, if, let’s say, witnesses saw me get clawed the fuck up by some magic-monster-bastard thing.  That didn’t happen, not at the Crossroads at least.  But, damn, I almost wished a demon _could_ kill me after the ‘Inquisition’ finally arrived, that’s for sure. 

Well, that particular wish had less to do with the ‘Inquisition’ than it had to do with a familiar dwarven member of theirs.  An old friend of mine, who I was completely ill-prepared to meet again and to whom I owed a pretty big explanation; a seven year long explanation.

Ah, but that’s just my luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos/comment to let me know how it is! :D  
> Also, omg, I'm so excited I get to write about DAI characters pretty soon, though I'm a bit nervous about getting their voices right. But! Still fun!


	27. Act II: Flashbacks and Panic Attacks

Seeing Varric walk, nonchalantly, into the refugee camp was an honest to god shock.  Out of everyone, Varric was the last I’d expected to see outside of Kirkwall.  The Inquisition didn’t even sound like his type of thing, not to mention the fact that he _loved_ Kirkwall; leaving it must have been like sacrilege to him.  I remembered how much he hated the trips Hawke used to drag him on, the ones that involved excess amounts of nature and all that.  He definitely looked out of place surrounded by the typical Ferelden backdrop of mountains, trees, dirt, and more trees.  It could’ve also just been the lack of Hawke by his side that made his entrance look all wrong.  My memories of him were almost always with Hawke. 

I should say, he didn’t notice me first.  I was in a healers’ tent, holding a bucket that needed to be refilled with fresh water.  I must’ve stared dumbly in Varric’s direction for a few moments too long, because the healer began hissing at me to get a move on.  So, I did.

I ducked out of the healers’ tent, head down and shoulders hunched.  I so wasn’t ready for a confrontation and there would be no avoiding one, if Varric caught sight of me.  All I could think about was the disappointment that would inevitably be in his eyes when he finally cornered me. 

My heart was racing and I had to repeat that old mantra of ‘deep breath in, deep breath out’ in my head while I hurried to get water.  The camp was busy and people were swarming around, hoping to get a look at the so called Herald of Andraste. 

The Inquisition itself wasn’t all that new of a presence at the Crossroads.  Their soldiers had set up camp alongside us a good two weeks before the arrival of the Herald, and we had actually began to see change already.  For one thing, it was marginally safer.  The Inquisition couldn’t do everything, of course, but the little that they did were badly needed regardless.  Everyone was grateful, and the Mother in charge had a lot to do with the support, I think. 

Mother Giselle was a kind woman, and I saw her around camp all the time.  I never talked to her, but I still had the feeling she knew of me.  She seemed like the type who would work hard to remember the names of everyone, particularly if a sense of responsibility was added to the mix.  In any case, I didn’t know her well outside of knowing that she was a good person and that she helped a whole lot of people with her work.  Also, it was common knowledge that she planned to support the Inquisition and all its endeavors.  Some people gossiped about this, like it was significant or something.  I wasn’t really interested.  Part of me had just wanted the Inquisition to take over so that I could leave without feeling too bad about it.

Of course, I began thinking about leaving immediately after seeing Varric stroll into camp.  I had my pack with me, like always, and my bow was always on my back just like my daggers were always hooked to my belt.  I could leave right away; there was physically nothing stopping me.

So why was I bent over, filling a bucket with water as if I intended to head right back in the direction of my current source of distress?  I had no clue either, but that’s what I was doing.

Looking back, I know now that I was panicking.  I fell into a familiar routine; one that I could do in my sleep because for the past month I drew water no less than six times a day, every day.   It gave my mind time to think, or, I should say, overthink.  I couldn’t focus on a single course of thought (hello, panic my good friend) and if anybody had so much as tried to talk to me, I would not have noticed.  I still don’t know how the hell I returned to the healers’ tent with a full bucket of water, though I basically just put the thing down and then fled without a single word. 

I had a panic attack.  It waited until I had managed to get away from the camp and any watching eyes, thank god.  I stumbled into the clearing and fell to my knees.  It was lucky that the area was quiet and deserted (it would be just my luck for there to be bandits or a bear or something, you know?), because I wasn’t seeing anything.  I knew what was around me, but I didn’t see any of it even though it’s not like my eyes were closed or anything.  It’s difficult to explain, especially in writing, so all I will say is that for at least ten minutes I was like that, struggling to breath and clutching my chest, before I finally began to come down.  It left me feeling exhausted, deep in my bones, and the shakiness wasn’t completely gone from my fingers for a long while after it was all over. 

I could feel my heart go back to its normal pace, maybe just a little bit faster than usual, and I could finally focus again.  I focused just on breathing for a while and the sounds around me.  Birds chirping, leaves rustling from a slightly breeze, the faint noises from the camp.  Those mundane sounds calmed me down even more.  When I decided I could move again, I pulled myself forward so that I could easily cup my hands in the stream and throw some water on my face.  I let it drip down my neck and onto my shirt, and I felt better. 

I didn’t get many panic attacks these days.  I knew they would never truly go away, but it felt good knowing that what might have once sent me into a fit, didn’t affect me anymore.  Like I had gotten stronger or something.

My last major panic attack happened four years ago. 

It was only a short while after the mages began rebelling all over Thedas.  It wasn’t as dangerous as it was four years later, but it was certainly the beginning of it.  I had been working in a small tavern in some small town that I can’t even remember the name of now, though I believe it wasn’t too far from the city of Denerim.  I lived in the tavern, in a closet sized room with no bed (actually, it might have just been a real closet, but I’m not sure).  I spent all of my free time in that tavern too, or what little free time the bar owner seemed to think I deserved.  To put it simply, I was dying for news.  Ever since word got out about the Champion of Kirkwall’s involvement in the Kirkwall Rebellion, it was all anybody could talk about.  And then the mages in Ferelden started their own rebellions and the gossip got even worse. 

I probably should’ve been listening in on the gossip for safety reasons, but I was really just looking for intel on Hawke.  Sure, I got the added benefits of learning about which places to avoid and which places were secure with Templars (aka: also places I planned to avoid).  To show that I was taking this seriously, I had begun a list of places to never, ever step foot in (until told otherwise). 

It was a weird time of night for the bar; a time where no new customers walked in and not many people were ordering drinks, but we still didn’t close because why the hell would a bar close?  So, I basically had some time to myself, even though I was technically still on the job.  The main bartender had left me hanging about an hour before, but I didn’t really mind since it was so slow. 

I was listening in on a lively conversation from a large group in a nearby corner, occasionally jotting down what they were saying.  I was paying special attention to the names of places, because, for some reason, I just didn’t have a head for remembering the names of anywhere.  Kirkwall was easy, as was Sundermount, but Ferelden was a whole other matter.  When I lived in Kirkwall, I didn’t fucking _leave_ Kirkwall.  In Ferelden, I left towns pretty much whenever I felt like it.  I didn’t actually stay long enough to memorize the town names, which were usually really weird names to begin with. 

Anyways, whenever I would hear a name, I would look it up on my map and put a check next to it, if I found it.  Since my map sucked pretty hard, I think I only ever marked off, like, three places to avoid.  Hence the necessity of a list. 

It was the list that got me into trouble.  I had it out, clear as day on the bar counter, when a pack of Templars strode into the bar.  The whole place quieted down super quick, all of our attention placed on the three armored figures standing in the doorway. 

Everything went back to normal when one of the Templars simply barked, “Three ales,” at me and then sat down at a table.  I gave then their ales and they paid me (no tips, why the fuck would an elf need money, right?).  I went back to my bar and my eavesdropping and all was well.

Except that it wasn’t.  I had started off keeping one eye on the Templars, but, since they were so boring, I allowed myself to get immersed in the funner conversations going on around me.  I never once thought to put my list away, since I was periodically jotting things down. 

I guess that was the suspicious part.  And, I guess I also made it worse by shoving the paper and pencil in my pocket when one of the Templars approached me at the bar. 

He had taken off his helmet, which made him seem slightly more human even though he still resembled a giant robot in all that heavy armor.  What struck me first was how unfriendly he looked, and how it was directed straight at me.  There were no pleasantries with this guy, he started off blunt.

“Where’d you learn to write, elf?”  
I should also mention that this was back when I still tried to trim my hair regularly.  I didn’t necessarily like long hair (very annoying, you know?), so I would try to cut it as often as I could even though it probably looked awful because I had to use my dagger in order to do it.  But, it was out of my face and that’s all that mattered to me.  It might’ve save me all the trouble if I had just sucked it up and let my hair grow out in peace.  Then, I might not have been mistaken for an elf (the story of my life).

I hesitated, thinking: where would an elf learn to write? Where do any Fereldens learn academia? Or is that just not done here?  I went for the easy answer.

“My dad.”

The Templar stared me down, eyes practically crossed as if he thought he was intimidating enough to make me answer truthfully.  I thought he might ask me where my dad learned, and I almost laughed at the image of how that conversation would play out. “Well, ser, my dad learned from his dad and his dad learned from his dad.  I mean, I’m just guessing – I didn’t know them.”

That didn’t happen, but it probably would’ve been amusing even though the Templar would’ve known I was making fun.

What he actually said was, “Sure he did.  He here to back that claim up?”

“Uh, no.  I’m not from here.”  That was a stupid thing to say, I realized as I saw the Templar’s eyes light up.  Like a cat that caught the mouse.

“Interesting.  What’s your name, elf?”

“Fitz.”

“Your _full_ name.”

Oh, god.  I never once used my full name in this world.  I remembered it, of course, but it felt weird, too weird to say aloud.  And it didn’t sound anything like most elven names I’d heard before.  I scrambled to think of an elven surname, but I must’ve hesitated for a moment too long because the Templar lost his patience.  He slammed his gauntleted hand down on the bar, making me and just about everyone in the room jump.  Dead silence reigned, and I felt lightheaded as I felt all eyes on us.

“I asked for your name.”

“Aw jeez, man.  It’s Sabrae.  Fitz Sabrae.” My eyes darted around the room, going back to the other two Templars, who were watching us very closely and had probably been watching this entire time. 

The Templar currently harassing me leaned in close, and I leaned back, out of fear and disgust (Fereldens don’t bathe regularly). 

“You thought too long for that to be the truth.  And I wonder why that is.  You aren’t perhaps _hiding_ something, are you?” 

Okay, so, what happened next was completely my fault.  I acted shady as fuck and then I opened my goddamn mouth.

“Yo, man, I’m not hidin’ shit except for the expensive liquor.  I know my own fuckin’ name, too, and it’s Sabrae.”

I could tell he wasn’t used to being talked to like that, and I immediately wished for the ground to swallow me whole.  I hadn’t meant to come off so…aggressive, but that’s exactly how it sounded.  It sounded like a challenge and the Templar didn’t like it. 

The Templar raised a hand, and I was too distracted by the sight of his friends standing up to run away, though I did back up.  Only, he still managed to reach out and grab me by the collar of my shirt.  He yanked me forward, and the harsh impact with the wooden bar winded me.

“The only place an elf learns to read is in a Circle.  So what would that make you?”  
“An unlikely statistic?” I wheezed, grabbing onto his gauntlet with one hand while I dropped the other below the bar.

“Wha–”

I knew what he was insinuating.  I also knew that being suspected of magic these days was almost always a death sentence.  So, I knew what I was doing when I swiped my dagger across the Templar’s face.

All hell broke out.  People jumped up, the Templar’s buddies ran towards us, and the Templar holding onto me wailed in pain.  His grip loosened from the shock and pain of my actions, giving me enough room to maneuver myself out of his hold.  I dropped to the ground, picked up my pack that I had laying at my feet, and proceeded to book it for the back entrance.  One of the Templars had already staked out the front entrance and the other was coming for me.  On my way to the back door, I picked up a full bottle of alcohol and chucked it straight at the Templar that was gaining on me.  Like his friend, he had taken his helmet off during his stay.  Without his helmet on, he got the full brunt of broken glass and burning alcohol to the face and the move gave me enough time to run out into the town.  It was dark out already, so I blended in perfectly.  I made it to the trees, and I ran for as long as I could handle.

I got lucky.  I got out of that town without any more trouble.  Oddly enough (or not), I had more trouble with the mages I met during my time in Ferelden; much more than I experienced with the Templars. 

But, anyways, I didn’t get my panic attack on that night either.  It came later, when I had made it to the next town over and it felt like everyone was looking at me like they _knew_.  Like they knew I was wrong and didn’t fit with their whole world, or something like that.  My paranoia was in full-force; spurred on by the attention that Templar had given me.  I was used to just being another poor elf.  It shook my nerves to be singled out like that.  Made me wonder if some people could tell that I didn’t belong here.  Even though this mentality was completely unreasonable, I couldn’t shake it.  I breezed through the town without stopping anywhere and my anxiety finally climaxed when I had set up camp, many miles from the town. 

But, still, kneeling on dirt and pebbles, with water running down my face, I recalled how it felt to be cornered and so close to capture (even if I was innocent, and totally not a mage). 

I don’t know why I equated capture with seeing Varric again.  I don’t think I truly believed Hawke would get some six sense of my whereabouts just because Varric saw me, but it sort of felt like that.  Like Hawke was gonna jump out of a tree and yell at me, or worse.

It was so stupid.  I hated when memories would hit me out of nowhere (even though it was the only time I remember things with a large degree of clarity). 

I forced myself to stand, and was pleasantly surprised when I found that my knees didn’t knock together.  I had to make a choice; talk to Varric or leave town.

~

I didn’t do either.

I chickened out of looking for Varric even before I left my stream.  I convinced myself that he wouldn’t want to see me anyways, just like I didn’t want to talk.  Besides, if he saw me, he’d certainly tell Hawke.  I had no way of knowing, or predicting, what Hawke would do with such knowledge, and I didn’t really wanna find out.  I told myself that if he did find out where I was, Hawke would probably ignore it.  He had way more important things to do than think about some asshole kid who he only knew for, like, two years and who skipped town without so much as a goodbye.  I bet myself that he didn’t even want to think of me.

So, that’s how I excused my skulking around the Crossroads like a fucking drug addict checking for cops.  Varric doesn’t see me, Hawke doesn’t hear anything.  Varric leaves, and I am free.  That was my thought process.

Needless to say, that absolutely did not happen. 

I think I was loitering behind one of the abandoned houses that dueled as a healers room, completely out of sight and blocked in by the side of a tall hill which made the walkway between the hill and the house sort of like a rural alleyway, when someone snuck up on me and scared the living hell out of me.

“Fitz!” The familiar voice rang out, much too loudly.  Only, it wasn’t the familiar voice I was expecting to hear.  I jumped to see, not Varric, but Amrita Lavellan.

“Amrita!” I nearly gasped.  I openly stared at her, momentarily forgetting that Varric was somewhere out there. 

“Oh!  I can’t believe it’s you!  I thought you would have left by now!” She surprised me even further by stepping much too close to me and hugging me tight.  I allowed it, but I did twitch slightly.

“I…liked helping out…and it’s, like, super dangerous out there right now…so…yeah.”

Amrita’s smile was wide, her entire expression full of honest relief and happiness at seeing me.  It made me realize just how relieved I was that she still lived.

“I thought you were dead.  Did you join the Inquisition?”

Her smile dropped into a bitter twist of the lips, “In a way.”

She raised her left hand and waved it around.  I stared at the gloved hand and then back at her raised eyebrows.  It took me a second.

“Oh my god.  No way.”

“Yes.  Tis true.” She sighed.  She put her arm down, instead opting to cross her arms.  “And it’s _awful_.  I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Ah, well, that’s where this Inquisition thing comes in, right? Telling you what to do and all that.” I tried to use humor to lighten the air, but it didn’t really work.  Amrita scoffed, and I could tell her feelings about this Inquisition was not all sunshine and daisies like Mother Giselle had been saying.

“ _They_ don’t even know what they’re doing.” She made a face, which I couldn’t help but laugh at. “On our way to close the first Breach, they wanted me to decide their course of action.  I was their _prisoner_.  They believed I caused the whole thing and still decided it was a brilliant idea to ask my opinion on how to go about fixing it.”

I snickered.  Her whole talk was drenched with sarcasm and astonishment, like she couldn’t believe how stupid they were.

“Well, at least it seems like they were fair.  Most prisoners wouldn’t get that kind of treatment.”

Amrita sighed again. “That is true.  I am being harsh, I know.”  
“I don’t…dislike them.  Not anymore.  It is just a lot more responsibility than I am capable of handling all at once.”

“Aren’t you supposed to take over leadership of your clan someday?” I said, recalling one of our talks from so many weeks ago.  “Think of this as a trial run.”

“Haha.” She said, unamused. “Fix all of Thedas.  I am sure that will be much easier than leading a clan of a few dozen people.”

“See, now you’re talkin’!  You got this.” I even slapped her back for good measure.  Oh man, I was so glad I wasn’t her.  I mean, I felt bad, but… _seriously_.

“Oh, your Heraldry, I was told to tell you that the Seeker is currently on a rampage, looking for you…”

It was awful.  Varric turned the corner of the house and trailed off at the sight of me.  My face must’ve been one of utter horror, but even in my shock I could clearly see Varric’s eyes widen.  He was not expecting this either.  Not at all.

“Oh, dear.” Amrita muttered, furrowing her brow. “I am gone for one minute and Cassandra has a fit.  Does she think I am so utterly incompetent?”

Varric didn’t immediately answer, but, true to his nature, he recovered quickly.  His voice was normal; it even still held a friendly undertone.

“It’s not personal.  I’m pretty sure she thinks everyone is incompetent.” Amrita laughed, and he grinned before he made his last sentence.

“However, you might want to go see her before she starts yelling.  I’m sure your friend here will understand.” He looked at me now, his face a placid mask of polite curiosity.

Amrita turned to me, “Oh, I’m sorry!  Varric, this is Fitz.  We met…well, that’s a weird story.  Anyways, Fitz, meet Varric Tethras!” She leaned in closer to me and whispered, “I know you’re not around civilization much, but you must know who he is, right?” Her eyes were excited.  Ugh.  She just had to be a fan.  My grinned response was strangled, but that was okay because Amrita was distracted.

“I’ll look for you later, alright?  There’s so much I have to tell you!”

And then she was off.  It was brutal.  One second I had an Amrita-shaped buffer between me and confrontation and then the next she vanished, and I was left with serious eyes and no hint of a smile anywhere.

Neither of us spoke a word.  I didn’t for reasons you already know.  Varric, however, simply waited until he was certain Amrita was gone, which I suppose was nice of him in a way. 

“Well.  Can’t say I expected to ever see you again.”

I held back a wince at his tone, though my eye did twitch a bit.  Okay, not happy.

“I too have much to tell you, though I’m not really sure if you even care or not.” OK, _definitely_ not happy. And he wasn’t finished.  “But, I’m more interested to hear from you.  Seeing as how we haven’t heard a peep from you since before the day you slipped out of Kirkwall, without a word to _anyone_.”

I winced that time, though I brought up a hand to my hair in order to hide it.  Not that Varric’s eyes ever missed anything before.

I had to say something, anything.

“Uh…yeah…I…we should talk?”

Varric wasn’t impressed.  Hell, I wasn’t.  I shook my head, deciding to ignore the mangled sentence-question that I had just uttered.

“Come on, I know where we can talk.  It’s better than here.”

“Lead the way, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the kudos/comments! they mean a lot and I really enjoy hearing what you think!   
> I have another chapter coming out right after this one, I binge wrote last night lmao


	28. Act II: Not-Yelling and the Brunt of Feelings

Every second we spent walking to the stream was in silence.  I didn’t look at him, couldn’t.  Oh, I knew he’d have a nice face on, at least when we were in the camp where there were others around.  But, I knew.  I could _taste_ his disappointment, and maybe even some anger.  It was so awful, oh my god.

I brought him to my stream and I claimed the biggest rock almost immediately.  Perched on it, I felt slightly less awkward than when I was standing and towering over Varric.  It didn’t feel right to stand so high.

Varric crossed his arms, leveling me with a stern look that would’ve rivaled one of my father’s, if I could’ve recalled what he looked like.  I had a feeling it looked a lot like this though.  Maybe disappointment is all the same, I don’t know.

Anyways, it made me feel compelled to talk for once.  And to tell the truth, too.

“Okay, I don’t know what to say.”

Varric sighed, but didn’t lose the stern façade.  “How about you start with what in the Void made you just up and leave Kirkwall?  With absolutely no warning.”

“I had to.  Uh, get out, I mean.” I looked away from him, glancing at the water and then the trees.  “I…I was sick of feeling powerless.  And I don’t like feeling like a burden?”

Varric looked incredulous when I finally turned my eyes back to him.  “So, what?  You figure you’re better off going it alone in the wilderness that is Ferelden? Of all places?”

I shrugged, pretty much.  There was no way I could ever defend the planning of my actions; that was basically shoddily done on my part.  But, I did it.  Too late now.

“Hey, I survived.  So I guess that means something, right?”

“And what exactly does it mean?  That you have some luck, maybe.”  Varric shook his head at me, and, finally, began to pace.  He became more lively when he paced.

“Here’s what I know.  The two of you get into it one night, tense silence for a few days at most, but nothing too bad.  And, then poof! You disappear.” Varric looked at me, with so much reproach it hurt.  “Is that how you settle disputes with all your lovers?”

I pursed my lips at his raised voice.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Varric paused.  I guessed he hadn’t meant to say that, because then he sighed.

“Forget I said that.”

We let the silence sit for a few minutes after that.  I was distracted by exactly what it was that he hadn’t meant to say.  I vaguely remembered our fight that night, but to call me and Hawke lovers?  It made me feel even more shaky than I already was.  I probably would’ve gotten myself angry and upset, if Varric hadn’t of interrupted my line of thought when he did.

“Listen, kid,” Varric began, holding my gaze with a firm one of his own, “First of all, know this: I am beyond angry with you.  What you did crushed him like you can’t even begin to imagine.”

I bit my lip and looked away.  I knew who he meant, even if we weren’t saying his name aloud for some reason.  How could I not know.  When Varric didn’t keep going, I swallowed my pride and just asked what I’ve always been wondering.

“How…is he?” My voice came out smaller than I’d wanted it to, but whatever.  Varric looked at me with more sadness in his eyes this time. 

“He’s gotten a little better.  But that’s about it.”  Varric didn’t say anything else, just stared at me.

He was going to make me pull teeth.

“Where is he now?”

“Not here, that’s for sure.” Varric looked around, eyeing the trees almost suspiciously.  “I made certain of it.”

“That’s…good.” But it was still bothering me.  Last I’d heard, Hawke wasn’t even in Kirkwall.

“But, Varric, why–”

“I can’t tell you anything, kid.  No offense, but all of that is top secret.  On a need to know basis.”  Yeah, no hard feelings.  I deserved that.

I looked down. “I understand.”  I stood abruptly, jumping off of my rock lightly.

“Well, we should probably head back befo–”

“Not so fast, kid.”  The stern look was back, fuck. “You still haven’t told me anything.  Like where exactly you’ve been.  What you’ve been up to.”  Varric paused, and then seemed to come to a decision because he sighed before continuing with, “And how you’ve been.”

I stared at him for a minute.  Seriously?  Did he really care?  I scratched the back of my head, wondering why it even mattered anymore.

“I guess I’ve been all around Ferelden at this point.  Uh, except for too far south, and too far west.  Um…I guess I haven’t actually been all around Ferelden, then… Oh! I prefer the coast.  I normally stick to the coast.”  Varric raised his eyebrows and didn’t say anything, which meant he wanted me to elaborate.  I complied.

“I like the…water? And the lack of bears?  It doesn’t really matter.  I’ve, uh, mostly been hopping towns since I got here.”

“Which was seven years ago.” Varric stated.

“Uh, yeah…” I almost ended that with a question mark, since he was staring at me all aghast-like.

“Kid, you’ve been skipping around half of Ferelden for seven straight years?  Are there even that many towns in Ferelden?”

“I’ve stayed in some places longer than others,” I said defensively. “And I lived in forests for some parts of it.  I was actually campin’ in the woods when I met Amrita.  Headin’ back to the coast.”

“Alright,” Varric exhaled, rubbing a hand across his face. “I’m not judging, just a little surprised.  Like at how you’re still alive.  What were you doing in the woods?” Oh, now he just sounded like he was humoring me.  Like he couldn’t think of one possible reason for my living, alone, in the woods.

“Nothin’.”  I said to quickly.  At his unconvinced look, I went on, “Really.  I was just, like, surviving and shit.  It was a whole battle of man verse nature.”

“Uh-huh.  And I’ll believe that when you learn to lie without touching your hair.” My hand dropped.  I hadn’t even realized I was looping one of the curls that lay at the nape of my neck around and around my finger until Varric had to go and point out my tell.  It made me wonder if I did that with my shorter hair, too.  The expression on Varric’s face clearly told me he knew all my tells, so I imagine that I did.

“I’m not forcing answers out of you, but you’re not winning yourself any points here either, kid.  Do you even realize how worried we’ve been?  All of us?”  Varric shook his head, and I swallowed down the slight horror I felt when I saw the disgust on his face.  His voice had pitched at the end, like he wanted to yell at me, but was holding it back.  I don’t know why he did that.  He should’ve just let me have it.

I stood there, attempting to stutter out a reply.  Varric cut off my suffering, however.

“Listen, kid.  I’m not done talking.” He gave me the eye. “Believe you, me.  We will continue this at some point.  But, for now, we should probably head back.  Wouldn’t want to worry anyone.”

Varric began to leave the clearing without me, though I caught up quickly.

“Okay, so I wasn’t really livin’ it up in the woods just to prove I could survive.  It’s just that–” I stopped suddenly, not knowing how to continue.  I avoided his eyes.  It made it easier to speak.  “My reasons are private.  And I can’t talk about it.  Is that any better?”  I ended my speech sarcastically, knowing it didn’t help anything.

“Believe it or not, yes.  It is.”  He side-eyed me, with an expression that I couldn’t decipher.  “At least it’s honest.”

We walked the rest of the way back to camp in silence.  Only, unlike the first trip, it was a totally different kind of silence.  Varric was still mad, yeah, but I got the sense that he didn’t hate me.  Which, for some reason, affected me more than I thought it would.  I guess seven years of pushing down feelings, and telling myself that I was better off without them, never really erased what it felt like to actually give a shit.  Who knew.

Before we broke out of the trees, I made a hasty decision. 

Even though we weren’t in listening distance to anyone, I leaned in and spoke very quietly, “Okay, so really, when you write to H–”

“I am totally and absolutely telling him about you.  Yes, I know.” Varric replied without missing a beat.  He didn’t even slow down so that we could talk this out.

“So _not_ what I was goin’ to say.  Seriously, Varric, it’s probably better if you don’t–” I pleaded, but I was cut off once again.  Only by someone new.

“Ah, Varric.  We were beginning to think you left us.”

Off to the side, standing on the abandoned farmland that everyone deemed the outskirts of the camp, was a rather tall elf in really weird clothes.  I tried not to stare, but he just looked so weird.  To each their own, seriously, I wasn’t judging.  I still don’t judge (okay, I’ll admit that’s a slight lie, but, hey, I’m only human).

Varric just grinned at the elf, “Oh, I could never leave you, Chuckles.  Or the Seeker, for that matter.  Although that is out of spite, I assure you.”

The elf, Chuckles (who I totally knew was not actually named Chuckles, I remembered Varric’s habits), raised one eyebrow impressively high, before saying, “And the Herald?  You would leave her?”

Varric scoffed, and placed a hand on his heart, “When I still have so many stories to share with her?  Never.”

Chuckles didn’t smile, but his eyes somehow did.  It was gone in the next second, when he turned to look at me with an expression of pure inscrutability. 

“I see you’ve found a friend, Varric.”

I forced a smile, even though the guy sort of unnerved me.  Varric responded with ease, however.

“Fitz, meet Chuckles.  Chuckles, Fitz here is a friend of the Herald.”

Chuckles looked faintly surprised, “Ah.  I see.” He waited a beat and then, “You are not Dalish.”

“No...” I answered, even though he didn’t pose it as a question.  I elongated my ‘o’s just to show how weird that was and that I was confused, but he didn’t pick up on it.  Varric did and he just chuckled.

"How did the two of you meet?" The man asked me.  I looked to Varric, hesitantly, but he was no help.

"Um...it was a weird day.  We saved each other.  That's about it."

His face was completely deadpan; I had no clue what he was thinking.  Not even when he opened his mouth to speak.

"How unusual.  Not many humans would take the time to help an elf.  And a mage, at that."

I was about to tell him that I wasn't racist, but Varric spoke for me.

“Oh, I thought Fitz was human at first, too, but he's an elf.  He just looks remarkably human.  Has the ears and everything, his hair is just too long.”

I wanted to scowl at Varric for giving me away (even if he didn’t know that I liked not being thought of as an elf), but instead I just lifted some tufts of hair up and showed off my pointed ears.  When I met the strange elf’s eyes once again, I got nervous.  His gaze was much sharper than before and I got the sense that he was very much focused on me in that moment.  I didn’t like it.

“Hmm.  My apologies.  You do not look like..." He trailed off, in thought, it looked like.  He came back to himself, and thankfully returned to our talk about Amrita.

"Forgive me.  I was not aware the Herald had many friends outside of her clan.”

Okay, rude.  And, ouch.  What did that mean?  Amrita was totally friendly and so could’ve had many friends outside her clan.  I decided I had to defend her honor and her overall cool-status.

“Um, she, totally does.  For your information, everyone loves her.”

Chuckles just blinked at me.  We were of a similar height, though I was still taller.  It was weird to be around another tall elf, however.  Even Amrita, while taller than most elves, was still more than a head shorter than me. 

I found out the strange elf’s name when the three of us entered the heart of the camp and Amrita came running up to us.

“Solas! You met Fitz, too!”

“It would appear so.”  Oh my god, he was still staring, though he seemed to take a step back and directed his attention elsewhere occasionally.  I could still feel the weight of his attention on me, in any case.

Amrita turned to Varric, looking confused now, “Where did you go off to?  I’ve been looking for the both of you,” She looked at me now, too.  I had an excuse ready.

“I showed Varric the stream.  He was saying how he wanted to bathe at some point.”  
“Oh! Right. Well, you’re not busy now, are you, Fitz?” Amrita bit her lip, looking at me seriously.

“Uh, I have time, if that’s what you mean.”  
“Perfect! I have something I want to ask you.”

~

“Wait a second, wait a second,” I looked at Amrita with complete seriousness, no joking, and then I looked around at the other faces surrounding the campfire with me. 

Amrita had taken me to her group’s campsite that was nestled just outside the refugee camp.  I had finally met the Seeker, also known as Cassandra, and she was just as intimidating as I had pictured, from what I’d heard Varric mention on the side. 

Unfortunately, Amrita’s companions looked at me with just as much seriousness.  No joking.

Feeling deflated, and put on the spot, I continued, “Lemme get this straight.  You want me.  To join the Inquisition.”  
Amrita nodded quickly and jumped at the opening, “Of course I do!  You can fight, hunt, take care of people.  And you told me yourself that you are great at reading and writing.  You are extremely skilled!”  
“Um, okay, but how will being able to read help the Inquisition?  I can read, yes.  Doesn’t guarantee I’ll understand everything.  I can’t decode shit, you know.”

“Having educated people in our midst is always beneficial.”  Cassandra said, rather stonily (though I came to understand that that was normal for her).  I got the sense that she was skeptical about me and I didn’t like the way she stared at me as if she was committing my face to memory.

“Exactly!” Amrita joined in again.  “Fitz, I’m not asking you to go with me on the front-lines!  Creators, no! Just come back to Haven with us.  You will be doing just as much good there as you are here.  The Inquisition will keep you just as busy, I can promise you that.  And you’ll be compensated, too.”

“Herald, you cannot just decide–”

“Please, Fitz!  It would be not only good for you, but for me, too.  I would really appreciate your support.” Her sincerity was overwhelming, as was the overall bluntness of her words.

It wasn’t that joining the Inquisition was unappealing, it was just that joining was _risky_ , and I don’t mean in the ‘you might die fighting’ kind of way.  I knew that they had a spymaster, who would most likely do a background check on me.  Somehow, and probably just because I was friends with the Herald.  Or, at least, that’s how Amrita described the woman, when she was telling me all about the Inquisition; before she hit me with ‘will you join’ bargain.  I also didn’t like the fact that their Commander was a Templar, ex-Templar, whatever.  And then there was the talk about how they wanted to enlist the help of either mages or Templars in sealing the goddamn breach.  It all just screamed: ‘Hey look at this brilliant opportunity to completely and utterly reveal your deep, dark secrets inadvertently!’ 

My mind was yelling at me for considering it.  What if I accidentally got too close to a mage’s spell?  It’ll be like: BAM! And, suddenly everyone will know that I can totally get slammed by magic fire and it will do absolutely nothing to me.  That would totally fucking suck, because then how would I escape?  When I’m surrounded by soldiers and spies 24/7?

I thought about all of this.  I am not stupid, I swear.  Not all the time, anyways.

But, when I looked into Amrita’s face, and I mean _really_ looked, I could tell that she desperately wanted me to be with her.

I don’t know how much of it was her projecting onto me; like, her attaching herself to me because I was the last person to be friends with her since her whole life got turned upside down.  Or that I was the last friendly face that she thought she could count on.  But, I also knew that we had a connection; we both felt it during that weird week of companionship before she left for the Conclave.  I felt like I had found the sister I’d never had and I knew without asking that she felt the same way.  It would be cruel, and outrageously selfish, to throw that back in her face. 

I mean, it never stopped me before.  Look at what happened with Hawke, and how utterly I fucked that up.  But, that was a slightly different story, with a slightly different setting.  That changes things, right?

When I say that Amrita doesn’t deserve that, I don’t mean that Hawke did.  I just mean that Amrita had this sort of innocence that made everyone who met her want to protect her, and support her (I mean, I guess I can’t include the Chantry in this, but fuck them). 

For the first time in a while, I wanted to be there for someone else; a specific someone else.  I felt some of that when I started helping the refugees, but I never found myself wanting to throw away my freedom in order to help any of them out.

This is all coming out way too sappy as I write this, but I’m being real here.  If you need more honesty, I was pretty fucking tired of being on the run.  I was tired of looking for answers and finding nothing.  I was tired of being alone. 

Seven years is a long time to be alone, no matter how you look at it.  Maybe it was that part of me that was making me so sentimental, because when I looked at Amrita, I saw myself. 

Here was this woman, who might as well have been tossed into a whole new world for all that had happened to her.  Her clan may have had good relations with humans, but that didn’t mean she was an expert on them, or their politics.  Elves were rarely, if ever, put into positions like hers, and I knew she was out of her depth.  It made me remember what it was like waking up in a dank underground passageway, tied to a shaft, as a blood mage tried all her might to imbue me with magic.  It also made me think about how hard it was trying to blend in and learn how to act even half-way Thedosian.  Of course, I hated those memories, but I also hated to think about Amrita feeling anything like how I felt back then.

At least I wasn’t thrown into a new world and then immediately forced into a position where the survival and good of the said new world was in my hands (or, specifically, my left hand).  I don’t think I could’ve handled that. 

And Amrita wasn’t asking much of me.  She didn’t want me to become a leading member of the Inquisition, or even someone who held any power at all.  Maybe, at most, I would be going back to my old job of messenger, only this time maybe it would be between entire camps and cities instead of between feuding stall vendors in Lowtown or smugglers in Darktown.  

Besides, if it didn’t work out, I just had to say that.  And then I could leave with my freedom still intact.  Easy.

Also, it was a time for answers, I thought as I looked into the fire, before facing Amrita once more.  The Inquisition could be a pretty useful tool in helping me revive a quest I had nearly given up on.  I could find a way to go home.  The thought still brought hope to my heart, but I couldn’t deny the doubt that also resided there.  Doubt that I would never find a way home, as well as doubt of a rather different nature.

In any case, I had made my decision.  I grinned at Amrita suddenly, and joy filled her eyes.

“Ah, I guess I might as well.  I’ve been meaning to visit western Ferelden anyways."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :)


	29. Act II: Fucking Politics, Am I Right?

We didn’t actually head out for Haven until many weeks after I joined.  Some of it had to do with their work in the Crossroads, helping the refugees and taking care of the rebel mages and Templars.  I decided to just ride around the Hinterlands with Amrita rather than head over to Haven by myself, or with one of the many scout parties.  I knew the area pretty well by now, so I was able to help in more ways than just during the battles that hindered our journey.  Like, when they wanted to head over to Redcliffe to look for more healers.  I told them flat out that we pretty much had no chance in hell at getting them to let us in, the assholes. 

Of course, they didn’t listen to me and tried anyways.  The gatekeeper refused to even humor us before she turned us away.  It was pretty savage, but I told them that would happen.  I didn’t say ‘I told ya so’ though, because Cassandra probably would’ve punched me.

We didn’t linger near Redcliffe village after that.  We were going to head back to the Crossroads, do some more work there, and then head back to Haven.  But, first, we had to stop at the farmlands that laid beyond the outskirts of Redcliffe’s gates.  We had briefly wandered through them on our way to the village, but decided it was more important to get the healers first (or, you know, ignore Fitz and attempt to get healers from a shut-in village). 

The farmlands were a rather desolate place, though you could still see the natural beauty of it if you ignored the burnt down houses and eerie silence.  The fighting had forced many of the inhabitants from their homes, and many of the homes we passed were broken down and ransacked, if they weren’t burnt down completely.  But, the grass was still green and the mountains rose up to encase the valley with a scenic backdrop.  I personally liked all the foxes that would run across our path at any given time. 

We ended up getting horses though, so that made the pointless trip to Redcliffe a little less…pointless. 

One of the many destinations on our to-do list included convincing an old horsemaster, named Dennet, to loan us some horses.  And because Amrita was such a hard worker (ie perfectionist), she even managed to convince the man to join the Inquisition altogether.  Although, I think I heard Varric make a comment to Dennet while they were talking, so he could’ve just as well manipulated the poor guy.  I’ll admit, I wasn’t paying close attention.  My hands were itching to take the elfroot growing in the garden outside Dennet’s house, but his wife was constantly in the garden.  She had rows upon rows of elfroot and the prospect of getting that much of the herb in one (non-cliffy) spot, made me sorely tempted to steal it.  I was reasonably sure my companions wouldn’t approve, what with us trying to convince these people of our good nature and all that, but the struggle was real.  Anyways, when the talks were done, Amrita even got Dennet to give us horses right then and there; one for each of us.

I so wasn’t thrilled about riding a horse, but I didn’t make too big of a deal out of it.  I basically copied the others and Cassandra, who picked up pretty quickly on the fact that I’d never ridden a horse before, took up the mantle in directing me on proper horse-riding etiquette.  I got bored with the lectures after I finally figured out how to stay on the horse and not fall off, but I wasn’t about to interrupt the Seeker. 

Of course, it wasn’t easy earning these beasts.  We had to kill all these possessed wolves and build real big watch towers around the farmlands.  Okay, we didn’t personally build them.  But we still had to make sure they got done before we could convince Dennet to work with us. 

It was amazing how different travelling was in a group of skilled fighters.  I was so used to sneaking around, that it felt like a novelty to be able to traverse the Ferelden countryside without fear.  We had a few scrimmages, bandits and some rogue mages, but they were always over quickly between the five of us.  Luckily, we didn’t happen upon many demons, but when we did I made sure to use my bow instead of my daggers.  I’m sure everyone noticed this habit, but they never pointed it out.  Many people feared demons, so it only made sense that you’d prefer to fight them at a distance. 

I still had to be careful when we happened upon the trigger-happy mages.  Now that I was in an actual group of fighters, I had eyes watching my back in battle.  If someone noticed that spells break as soon as they make contact with me, red flags would be waving _very_ quickly. 

And my companions had sharp eyes.  Solas was always on the outskirts of our battles, watching over us and our opponents at the same time, as was Varric.  Amrita always put all her focus on fighting, and she usually got way too close to our opponents for someone who was a mage.  Thankfully, this usually worked in my favor even though it was dangerous for her.  As a rule, Amrita’s safety was number one, and I think all of us kept one eye on her during every battle.  But, when she integrated herself so personally in our fights, our attentions had to double because she just upped her chances of death or maiming by a pretty good percentage.  It earned her a lot of lectures from Cassandra, which I quite honestly found hilarious to watch. 

As for Cassandra, she usually got pretty intense during battle, so I couldn’t be sure if she would notice my oddities or not.  After getting to know her, I learned that she usually put her entire mind behind one action at a time.  But she was also a skilled warrior, who knew how to notice weird signs, like the guy who got hit by a fireball and walked away without even a scorch mark on his clothes.  She may get too focused on one thing, but she wasn’t anywhere near stupid.

It made it harder for me to go unnoticed when the others tried to protect me, too.  Particularly, it was most troublesome when Solas would, very kindly, cast shields around me when I was fighting.  I could only hope that he didn’t notice that they did jack shit if I moved through them.  Sure, they worked if I just stood there and let my opponents hammer at the damn thing til it faded.  However, I was constantly weaving in and out, dodging attacks, and trying my hand at my own sneak attacks.  That made it impossible for me _not_ to walk right through the shields. 

As troublesome as it was, the shields Solas projected over me actually made me realize something pretty big.  The first time he ever cast protection over me, I felt it.  I could feel the shields surrounding me, and I could physically feel the spell break when I touched it.  The odd thing was, I had never felt magic before.  Not ever.  When Marcella used my body as a magic-repellant pin cushion, I didn’t even feel a tickle.  It was the same way here in Ferelden, back when this stupid war first broke out.  I had multiple run-ins with mages who wanted to do me in, and I never felt a single thing. 

It was a completely new sensation, and it was just another thing to add to my already long list of worries.  It made me nervous thinking about the implications of such revelations, but until I had the time and resources to pursue it, there was nothing I could do.  It didn’t actually hurt, anyways.  It was more like feeling something brush against you.  Very, very lightly.  I had no way of knowing exactly what it meant, but the most obvious reason was the Breach, which I knew next to nothing about.  It was probably a good thing I joined the Inquisition, then.  Out of everybody, they were the only ones attempting to do anything about it, so it only made sense that they had to be studying the damn thing and figuring out its innermost workings.  I had already resolved to take an interest in these studies (for potential going home plans), even though it looked like the local expert on everything Fade was our very own Solas.  During the long walks, and horse rides, Amrita always ended up talking with him at some point or another about his studies and his opinions on magic, the Fade, and what not.  It was interesting to listen to, and he clearly knew his shit, but I still wasn’t too stoked about talking to Solas, in depth, about anything.  I knew that was just my nervousness kicking in, though.  I’d get over the intimidation I felt around him sooner or later.

But, first, I just really wanted to get to Haven.  There was a Chantry there, and I was dying to check out their book selections.  I knew from experience that Ferelden wasn’t exactly overflowing with books, or at least the countryside wasn’t (which I suppose was to be expected).  By the time I got to Haven, it had probably been at least half a year since the last time I’d even held a book.  I mean, I occasionally found a few random pages of something, but you can imagine how much that helped me out.

Amrita kept talking up Haven during our travels.  I found myself getting honest to god excited, even though I knew it also meant that Varric would corner me sooner or later.  It would be nice to have a job that didn’t include wiping tables and serving beer (I hoped).  One thing I was skeptical about was the whole ‘all men all equal’ bullshit the Inquisition was trying to sell.  Amrita spoke at length about how all races are accepted and none are put lower than another, but I had trouble seeing this as true.  But, it would still be interesting to see people fall all over themselves at the sight of Amrita, a Dalish elf.  I don’t know where my bitterness came from (okay, I do, but let’s just pretend that was just a phrase rather than actual truth).  But, I couldn’t wait to see some racist human grit their teeth and show respect to an elf.  Shit, it got me all excited just thinking about it.

~

We were halfway to Haven when the conversations starting getting personal.

Amrita was asking Cassandra question after question about Nevarra, not seeming to notice when the other woman began to tire of answering.  I wasn’t gonna cut in; I was busy sulking about how painful it actually was to ride horseback.  I was sore and the horse _stunk_.  No one else seemed bothered whatsoever, so I was trying to be inconspicuously grumpy which meant not talking lest I snapped.

I almost didn’t hear the question aimed at me, probably because it wasn’t Amrita doing the asking.  I turned my head to look at Solas, who was bringing up the rear of our party, and blinked at him for a minute before I realized he was talking to me.

“Huh?”

“I asked about your homeland.  The Herald mentioned that you have been travelling Ferelden for the past few years, but she did not say where you originated from.”

I didn’t get a chance to answer.  Amrita did that for me.

“Oh! Fitz is from Kirkwall! Or…did you say your friend was?” She trailed off, clearly trying to recall an old conversation of ours.  I could’ve tried to refute it, but Cassandra had latched onto the topic immediately. 

“Kirkwall? You grew up there?”

I could’ve lied.  But, I’ve done that before so maybe it’d be best to stick as close to the truth as possible.  I didn’t like the idea of carrying any sort of long-winded, complicated lies with me throughout my stay with the Inquisition, especially when I already had at least three that were non-negotiable on the ‘keeping hidden’ front.  Anyways, it sounded way too risky, and I wasn’t confident that they would just let it slide, should they catch me in a full-out lie.  Not like Hawke had been more or less content to live with.

“Nah, I moved there for a few years.  Left before all that shit went down though.”

“Aha!  I knew you said Kirkwall.” Amrita crowed, before she was suddenly hit with what seemed like a huge realization. “Oh! Fitz, did you ever meet the Champion?”  Excitement colored her words while I felt my throat close up.

I coughed briefly so I could answer normally and not come out sounding choked up, before I replied, “Uh…not really.  Saw him some though…used to live close to him.  So, yeah…”

Of course, I never knew of him as the Champion, but they didn’t need to know that.

Cassandra looked slightly surprised as she said, “You lived in Hightown?”

I almost laughed. “Nah, I was in the alienage.  I just meant, when he used to live in Lowtown…it was close to me…”  Oh, god, I was so awkward.  I wanted out of this conversation so bad.

“Alienage? Why were you in…” Amrita began and I looked at her in confusion before I suddenly realized that she still thought I was human.  I mean, she thought I wasn’t an elf.  Ugh. Some days _I_ forget I’m not actually an elf.

“Oh shit, sorry.” I lifted my hair and was rewarded with a light gasp.  “I totally forgot to–” I was going to say: ‘I totally forgot to correct you last time’, but Amrita had other plans.

I don’t know how she managed, but she got her horse to get super close to mine, and proceeded to smack the shit out of my shoulder.

“Yo! Stop!” I gripped my reigns, trying not to fall as the Herald of Andraste pounded her fists against my poor shoulder.

“You–utter–jerk! Fitz!” Each slap punctured her words, but she did eventually stop hitting me, even though she still looked extremely indignant (not exactly angry though, thank god). “How could you let me think you were human.  I’m so embarrassed.  I called you a shem!”

I laughed. “I don’t care.”

“You should.” Amrita said, turning stern.  I was probably close to a Dalish lecture, but luckily Cassandra cut her off.

“Herald, your horse is leaving the road.”

As Amrita situated herself, the conversation turned back to normal.  However, it deviated once more with a story Varric began telling about one memorable night at the Hanged Man.  It wasn’t a story I remembered, so I assumed it was from before my time, since Isabela was clearly a main character in it.

Amrita interrupted Varric’s story, excitedly, “Wait, Varric you said you spent a lot of time at that tavern, right? All Fitz does is stick to taverns! Do you think you and Fitz ever crossed paths?”

I wanted to refute that, since it made me sound more like a drunk than a bartender, but I was a little too flustered over her last question to do so.  Me and Varric glanced at each other; my face blank (though Varric could probably see the dread, regardless) and he had put on a carefully arranged look of deep thought. 

“Hmm, could be.  Say, kid, how often did you visit the Hanged Man?”

He was clearly giving me the decision of whether or not to out ourselves.  I mean, we wouldn’t be able explain just how far we went back, but we could leave an impression of bar buddies, at the least.  I decided to go for it.

“It was practically a second home.”

Varric grinned, though it looked stiff to my eyes, but that could’ve just been because I knew he was still angry with me. 

“Well, shit.  Now that I think of it, weren’t you that kid that got kicked out one time because the barkeep thought you were twelve?”

I scowled at him, while Amrita guffawed.  “I wasn’t twelve.  He was just being a dick.”

“How old were you really?” Amrita asked.

“Seventeen.”

Amrita laughed even louder, and even Cassandra was smirking.  I scowled at all of them, except for Solas, who was the only one not laughing at me.

“All of you can go shove it.  A lot of people look young for their age.”

“It’s just,” Amrita snickered. “You still look seventeen!”

I think she was over exaggerating, but I could still see where she was coming from. Unfortunately.

I knew I definitely looked over twenty-one, no matter what Amrita said.  It was the combination of big eyes, a lack of facial hair, and the gangly limps that worked against me.  Even still, I had enough muscle from near-constant fighting for it to be noticeable on my figure and my face had long since lost its baby fat.  I may have looked closer to twenty than the reality, which was that my age was actually much closer to thirty than it was to twenty. 

I was grateful that the teasing stopped there, I might’ve accidentally snapped at them.  I guess you could, I was still a bit sensitive about my age.  We had made it well into the Frostbacks by that point, so it was only a short matter of time before we finally reached Haven.  Conversation turned to more sensible topics, like the collective yearning for a nice fire and a meal.  And a place that was at least half-way comfortable for sleeping.

~

A few hours later saw us congregated in Haven’s tavern, with a hot meal and some pleasant music playing in the background.  It was just me, Amrita, and Varric, as Cassandra had left us as soon as we had made it through the front gates.  All she said was that she had to speak with the advisors, or something like that.

Amrita was drooping over her plate.  I was feeling quite the same way, since we had arrived well into the night.  It had been a long day of travelling and we were all feeling it. 

“So, kid, did you figure out your lodgings yet?  Space is pretty cramped out here.” Varric asked me, amicably enough.  I had figured I’d just find whichever cabin had enough room and squeeze in there.  It wasn’t like these were personal houses or anything.  Unless the Inquisition was very particular about sleeping arrangements around here, I thought it’d be best to just claim whatever worked for now since it was so late in the evening. 

“You can share my cabin, Fitz.  Creators know I have enough room for you.” Amrita murmured into her plate.

“Oh, the rumors that would encourage would be great, I’m sure.  But, I don’t think that’s the kind of message you want to send out to the entire camp.” Varric replied, with an arched brow and a slight grin.  His grin grew when Amrita visibly sat up straighter at his words.

“It’s not! It wouldn’t even be close to…what you are insinuating.” Amrita leaned in, whispering the words like they were too dirty for others to hear.  I didn't know whether to be offended or not, since Amrita sounded like she was seconds away from calling out 'Gross!'.  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, however.

“I’ll just find an empty cot…floor, or whatever.  It won’t be a problem.”

“Nonsense,” Varric said, waving his hand.  “Us Kirkwallers have to stick together.  There’s room in my cabin.  We’ll get a cot sent there right now.”

“Gee, thanks.” I muttered, already dreading the arrangement. 

“Fine.  I’ll just be alone forever, in my large, spacious cabin.” Amrita grumbled melodramatically.  With that, she finally pushed herself up from the table.

“Your cabin’s not that big, you know.” Varric said back, with amusement etched in his face.

“When you’re used to little aravels and cramped quarters, that cabin is a castle.” Amrita returned with more energy than her sleepy eyes suggested.  She clearly felt strongly about the situation, and it made sense.  I guess when you’re used to being surrounded by a great deal of people on a daily basis, where privacy is not necessarily a top priority, it had to be weird to go a complete 180 and have an entire cabin all to yourself. 

Varric chuckled.  “Alright, alright.  Why don’t you go to sleep before you fall on your face?”

Amrita scoffed, and then stumbled over her feet as she began to leave our corner. “Good night, then.” She broke off into a huge yawn, before continuing, “I’m sure I’ll see you bright and early.  I expect I’ll be receiving list after list of things to do as soon as I wake up.”

She trooped out, waving at our calls of ‘goodnight’ with a lofty hand. 

I turned back to Varric, and found him already talking to another person.  It was a quick conversation, just Varric asking someone to send a cot to his room.  I waited to speak until the man was gone, because I am a polite individual.

“I would’ve been fine with the floor, you know.”

Varric didn’t smile at me, like he would’ve if Amrita was still here.  I tried not to feel disappointed, since I didn’t really have any right to.

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the ground.  I’m sure you’ve done enough of that for one lifetime.”

That was…surprisingly nice of him.  Well, I shouldn’t say ‘surprisingly’.  Varric was a nice guy, plain and simple.  Unlike many people (like myself), Varric possessed a very big heart.  He couldn’t even let a deadbeat friend like me sleep on the floor of a warm room.  It was more than I deserved from him, in any case.  Even if I was certain that he had only offered to share his room so that we had a safe place to talk.  So that he could interrogate me.

We left the bar not long after that.  When we arrived at his cabin (which Varric pointed out was just down the road from Amrita’s own quarters), the cot was already set up in an empty corner of the small room.  It was near a sturdy looking desk, and I knew that it would not be long before there were masses of paper strewn across it.  As it was, the desk was already full of unopened envelopes and the like. 

I tucked my pack under the cot and summarily dropped myself heavily onto the thing.  Cocooning myself in the coarse blanket that lay on top of it, I watched as Varric went about putting his own things in order.  He spent quite a few minutes looking through the piles of envelopes on his desk, before he pulled out a few sheaves of unused paper and a fancy-looking quill.

The only light he kept was a small candle by the edges of his paper.  I could have easily fallen asleep, but I was slightly distracted by the nagging suspicion that I knew who this letter was being addressed to.

Varric caught on my staring, and saved me the effort of asking.

“I won’t be sending this until the day after tomorrow.  That should give you enough time to write your own letter.”  Still leant over the paper, one side of his face illuminated by the candlelight, Varric continued writing even as he spoke.  “That is, if you should be so inclined.”

I buried myself further into my blanket, not liking his tone or his phrasing.  I sucked it up, because he obviously had every right to be a bit frosty with me.  But, seriously, to write a letter to Hawke?  After _seven_ years?  Oh god, I wouldn’t even know where to start.

So, I did what I do best.  I closed my eyes and pushed the thoughts from my mind.  Sleep didn’t come quickly, but it was still better than thinking about what in the hell I could ever say to Hawke.  It’s not like it would fix anything.

~

The next morning was bright, and early; just as Amrita had warned. 

I joined her as she went around Haven, doing odd jobs for random people.  At one point we were exploring an area just beyond the heart of camp, looking for scattered notes of a now deceased healer.  The current head healer of Haven was desperate for them, apparently.  Between the two of us, Amrita and I found them pretty quickly.  And we even scored a few bundles of elfroot, each, as the area was just about bursting with the stuff. 

We had only just dropped the notes and herbs off at the healer’s cabin, when Amrita was called to the council room, or I think they called it the war room or something.  Whatever it was, she didn’t emerge from the Chantry until many hours later, looking weary and a bit grumpy.

I spent the evening in the tavern.  I had a table to myself when Amrita finally showed up, so I waved her over.  She plopped down heavily and promptly ordered a beer.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

“Huh? Oh…ugh.” She groaned, before she began relating to me the torture that had been her life for the past few hours.  “Well, I am to depart for Val Royeaux the day after tomorrow.  I will most likely be yelled at and accused of mass murder for the duration of that visit.  It shall be absolutely wonderful.”

I made a face at her, which she returned.  “Aw, that’s tough.  But, you’ll have others accompanying you, yeah?  You’ll be fine.” I paused, it was kind of hard to console her.  This situation sucked.  “What do you even have to do there?”

She sighed.  “I must somehow convince the Chantry that we are not all heretics and savages.  Mother Giselle seems to think I will at least spread seeds of doubt in regards to our heresy, so long as the Inquisition appears respectful.  Though, I am not certain if that will work or not.”

I shrugged at her, taking a long sip of my own beer.  “Think of it this way, you guys are the only one doing anything around here.  I mean, shit, the world’s ending and the Chantry would rather call names than actually get their shit together.  Shit’s fucked up.”

Amrita looked at me curiously, and I prepared myself for questions.  However, what she ended up asking took me completely by surprise.

“Do you believe in the Maker?”

Well, I didn’t know much outside of the basics, and the Chant of Light, so I couldn’t really talk.  Who knows with this world. 

“Eh, I’m not big on religion.”

Amrita nodded like that was a very reasonable answer, which was a relief.  I had encountered a great deal of religious nuts during my day, especially in Ferelden, and that never ended nicely.

I was, however, slightly curious at the seemingly random question.  I know we were talking about the Chantry, but the Maker question seemed too big of a jump for it to be natural.  I decided to question her about it.

“Why d’you ask?”

“Ah, it’s just something that everyone seems to be asking _me_ these days.  It feels like they expect me to always say ‘yes’.”  

I did not miss the mumbled, “and I literally have ‘Dalish’ written across my face,” that she directed to her mug, which made me snicker.  She had a point.

“I guess that’s what we get for joining an ancient religious order then, isn’t it?”  I joked.

Amrita snorted into her drink, and that was that.  We enjoyed the rest of our evening in the warm tavern, ordering too much ale and listening to the nice music coming from the center of the room.

Amrita didn’t ask me to join her to Val Royeaux.  I was very glad for it, too.  I had only just arrived at Haven, didn’t even know all the ins-and-outs yet, and I really wanted to explore the old Chantry that lay high above all our cabins and workstations.  I wasn’t keen to visit Orlais, and, if I am being completely honest, it was probably for the best that I didn’t go anyways.  I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a shining example of diplomacy and honor, as the Inquisition hoped to portray themselves as.  I most certainly would’ve fucked up somehow, by, like, getting into a fight with a food vendor or something.  I had utter confidence in Amrita, however.  She may have had her own doubts, but I knew that she could handle people well enough, or as well as anyone can handle people intent on being difficult.  In any case, it wouldn’t be long before people began accepting the Inquisition for what it was; the only people on this godforsaken planet who were doing a damn thing to save it from total destruction.  It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading/commenting/kudo-ing! :D


	30. Act II: Getting a Job

I stood in front of Ambassador Montilyet, rubbing a hand across the back of my head.  I couldn’t help but feel rather naked and vulnerable, despite the kind look on the woman’s face.  I must’ve looked pretty stupid, because the ambassador couldn’t hold back a giggle, even though she hid it behind one delicate hand.

“It suits you.  You needn’t worry so much.” She told me, sobering up and presenting me with a polite smile.

I made a slight face, regardless. “I’m just not used to it yet.  Feels weird.”

The night before she left for Val Royeaux, Amrita absolutely insisted on giving me a haircut.  I thought she meant a slight trim, but she chopped nearly everything off.  As it was now, I had no hair lying on the nape of my neck.  Even the sides of my head were pretty bare.  I could feel the presence of my ears all the more clearly without any of my curls hiding them.  There would definitely be no more passing as human for me anytime soon.

I still wasn’t used to it come morning time. After Amrita and the others had already departed,  I was left to report to Ambassador Montilyet in order to discuss where my future duties would lie.  We had met the day before, briefly, where we made the plan to talk this morning. 

She was awfully professional, and it was extremely intimidating.  I was very aware of the fact that I had been living, secluded, in the wilderness for a good portion of the year.  A fact made all the more evident by her impeccable sense for social cues and polite conversation.

“Mistress Lavellan has informed me that you possess a wide range of skills, is that correct?”

I tuned back into our conversation, just in time to hear her first proper question.  Relieved that I didn’t have to ask her to repeat herself, I answered as frankly as possible.

“Yeah, like, I got at least the basics down for most things.”  Combing my mind for more things to say, I remembered Amrita’s impressed words over my more academic skills.  “Oh, and I am very efficient at reading and writing.”

Josephine nodded and scribbled something down on the paper in front of her.  “Good.  Do you know any other languages?”  
Scratching the back of my head, I told her I only knew Common (I had make a conscious effort not to say English by mistake).  She seemed only slightly disappointed.

“Well, I believe we have a few places that would work well for you.” She scrutinized her sheet one last time before turning her full attention back to me.  “I could always use help with clerical duties here.  Organization, sorting through letters, transcribing replies.  However, given your experience with fighting and travel, it would be wise to see Leliana before we place you anywhere permanently.”

“Oh, isn’t that the…spymaster?”

Josephine gazed back at me politely, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.  “Yes, Leliana deals in more covert matters…So, yes, her division is involved in espionage and other such work.”

Me, a spy?  I mean, that sounds absolutely _sick_ , like every kid’s dream come true.  It was kind of crazy to think that I was actually capable of it, too.  I had immersed myself in a lifestyle that necessitated stealth and observation.  I wouldn’t have lasted all this time without it.  However, working under the spymaster, when I currently had some pretty serious secrets of my own, didn’t sound smart whatsoever.  So, I declined.

“I don’t think spywork is for me.  I’m not _that_ subtle, you know what I mean?”

Josephine looked me up and down, obviously attempting to see my words.  She must’ve found something, because she proceeded to agree with me.

“Yes, I suppose I do.  Have you put any thought in scout work, then?  If you’ve a hand for drawing, our scouts are always looking for people to record their findings.”  
I perked up at the sound of this.  I was in art club in high school.  I wasn’t all that good, but I could copy simple pictures and my hand writing was stellar when I put my mind to it. 

“I think that would be perfect.”

Josephine smiled, satisfied at the resolution of our talk.  “Wonderful! I’ll put you down on the list of scouts right now.”

I watched her begin to write, but in the next second she was pausing again and looking up at me in slight embarrassment.

“Oh, I apologize, but I don’t believe I caught your last name.”

I blanked.  I never went by one before and people always seemed to think that was normal.  However, that didn’t seem to be the case with the ambassador.  Not wanting to cause a scene or any confusion (aka, seem suspicious), I decided to just give her my real last name.

“Uh, it’s Neves.”

She smiled and wrote it down, and that was it.  I got a job just like that.  We exchanged polite farewells shortly after Josephine told me who to report to about getting on missions.  Apparently I had to look for an elven woman named Charter in the near future.  A few parties had just recently left, but they were due back in a week, or two at most.  In the meantime, I would just help out around camp, I suppose.  But, first, I was totally checking out the rest of this Chantry. 

~

Thankfully, it wasn't all that hard to navigate the Chantry.  It wasn't anywhere near as big and extravagant as Kirkwall's, so I didn't get turned around at all.  

It was pretty clear which room was the war room, so I didn’t accidentally walk into that one.  The door across from Josephine’s office just led to more barracks (albeit the higher end kind).  I didn’t enter those rooms either, for obvious reasons (I did’t wanna be known as the creepy guy who goes through people’s private stuff).  I hit the jackpot when I made it halfway down the long hallway that would have once been filled with rows upon rows of benches for the praying masses.  The door I found opened up to a small room that presented me with a view of a descending staircase.

It was ramshackled and dirty with the combined effects of age and disuse.  It was super eerie, too.  As I climbed down the stairs, I tensed out of habit.  It was dark, though there were lanterns lit despite its deserted nature.  As I got lower and lower, it got colder beyond belief.  It was a good thing I’d doubled up with the clothing.  Well, technically, it was tripled up.  I had on the blue tunic Amrita had given me at the Crossroads, as well as my old sweater _and_ my sturdy coat.  I would’ve put a second pair of pants on, but sadly I do not own any after a rather unfortunate accident with the Ferelden wildlife.  It’s not important, though I have been meaning to get a new pair of trousers for a while. 

I digress.  I appeared at the bottom of the steps, only to see another, much darker and longer, hallway.  It smelled musty and all that, but it was bearable.  Making a mental note to invest in a good scarf, I tried to make quick work of my investigation.

It would’ve been better, if I had not been partially distracted by what had happened earlier that morning.

As Varric promised, he had sent out his letter before leaving camp for Val Royeaux with Amrita.  Contrary to my behavior the other night, I did actually try to think of something to write.  I even wrote some stuff, too.  It’s just nothing came out right.  _At all_.  What was there to even say?

The best I could come up with (and I am partly joking) was:

‘Dear Hawke, it’s me, Fitz.  I’m still alive.  Just been kicking it around Ferelden, doing stuff.  Varric is already telling you everything he knows and with more far more eloquence, so I won’t repeat and make it all boring.  Anyways, I am alive, thought you’d want to know, maybe.  Oh, and sorry for the whole leaving without a word thing, and for completely crushing you, as Varric has made it a point to tell me.  Hope you’re well, wherever the hell you are. -Fitz’

I may be a dick, but that sounds bad, even to me.  I mean, yeah alright, giving no letter would be worse, but maybe it was the smartest thing to do in the first place?  If I made contact with him, he’d want answers I couldn’t give him and I’d just have to lie all over again.  He didn’t deserve that.  I truly believed it best to just go on as if all ties had been cut.  It was totally a ‘head in the sand’ reaction on my part.  I mean, Varric was here, for crying out loud.  He was going to try to get the story out of me eventually, and I totally wouldn’t put it past him to orchestrate a meeting between me and Hawke.  Whether I knew about it beforehand, or not.

You can say I chickened out.  I’ll own up to that.  I crumbled up every bit of paper I tried to craft a letter on, and ended up with nothing to show for.  I avoided Varric’s sharp eyes and just bore his stony silence with a bowed head.  Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling really awful about it.

The first book I found in the creepy basement of the Chantry took my mind off these thoughts almost immediately.  It was lying amongst a bunch of old pots and barrels that looked like they’d seen better days.  I was interested in the book, too, but it was basically all folklore; stories about Andraste and all that.  Maybe I’d read it fully one day, but I wanted something a little more scientific and magic oriented.  Shit you wouldn’t necessarily ever hear about because it’s deemed ‘inappropriate’ and whatnot.  Of course, in hindsight, an old Chantry (particularly with Haven’s reputation in the past) was probably not the best place to have these expectations.  All I found in that hallway were Andraste-related stuff.

I put the book back where I’d found it, and moved on.  A few paces down the hallway, I discovered something a bit weirder.  It was a locked gate, like a jail door or something.  The bars were old and rusted, but inside the room beyond it, I could clearly see that it was lit up with quite a few candles (though no one was inside).  I peered in close, practically squeezing my face into the barred gate.  Papers and books littered the ground, along with other things like chests and pots. 

Once I finally picked the lock, which was surprisingly frustrating and sort of hard, the door swung open with a loud squeal that had me cringing and looking back towards the way I came from.  When no one came running, I shrugged and walked in.

It was like Christmas day.  I entered the room and promptly began to gape as I took in the various books, papers, and, get this, bookshelves!  I counted no less than six separate bookshelves that were more or less filled up with reading material.  That’s when my real investigation started.

I began with stuff on the ground.  A lot of the papers were full of smudged writing or were just more Chantry junk.  I tried not to move them around too much, I didn’t want whoever actually used this place to get suspicious.  Surprisingly, compared to the amount of shit on the ground, I ended up moving on to the bookselves relatively quick. 

The first interesting piece I found was not necessarily on a shelf, but sitting right in front of one, on top of a pile of books.  The book, titled _Beyond the Veil: Spirits and Demons_ , was decently thick and well-preserved.  When I flipped through it, the pages spoke of the Fade, and the Black City.  I’d never heard about half of this stuff before, but it was pretty crazy how real all of it sounded, like their god was a real person or something rather than an omnipotent being.  It made me wonder how much of it was exaggeration or religious fanaticism, and it was hard for me to tell because this book read like science rather than religious myth.  It told me the Black City used to be the where the Maker lived and that it is now apparently the abandoned center of everything inside whatever metaphysical plane the Fade lay on.  It also told me that some Vints invaded the place and ruined everything.

So, humans fucked everything up again.  What else is new?  I was more interested in the fact that the guy believed to be the Maker (of what? Everything?) lived in this whole big, expansive dreamland with all the spirits and demons.  The book (I would have to sit down and read it more thoroughly in the future) also didn’t tell me what happened to the Maker.  All it said was that he left, but where’d he go if he didn’t die?  The Chantry says he’s not in the Fade and he’s not in Thedas, so where could he have gone?   
All of this was way too…mythical for me to think so realistically about.  I mean, I still thought it was important to learn more about the Fade, since it was actually _real_ and all that.  But I wasn’t necessarily desperate enough to go looking for answers in any religion.  Unfortunately, it seemed like _Beyond the Veil_ was pretty well entrenched in Andrastian undertones.

I needed something more concrete; like some historical author claiming realm-hopping to be real, preferably along with instructions on how to get back to your own world should you ever find yourself elsewhere.  Man, that would be day.

I had no sooner than put the tome down, when I was surprised by a voice in the doorway. 

“Hm, I believe this was locked, last time I checked.”

Jumping, and cursing my inability to stay alert (and when I was doing partially suspicious stuff too!), I swung around to look at the person who had snuck up on me.  
The woman was young, I guess.  Definitely older than me, but it was hard to tell.  She wore all long clothes, complete with a drawn up hood and everything.  I could just barely see that her hair was red what with the dim lighting and all that.  She didn’t look unfriendly, but she didn’t look particularly friendly either, you know what I mean?  She watched me with eyes that were far too sharp and a face that was far too closed off.

“UH,” I said, a little too loudly from my shock. “I may have broke in, but…But! I’m not doin’ anything bad, I swear.  I saw the bookshelves and I wanted to see if there was anything cool to read!”  I gestured to the book I had just put down, a little too desperately.  I didn’t know for sure, but I had a feeling this woman was tough and not a little person, if you get me.

She took a step closer to me, with one slim eyebrow raised as she seemed to size me up. 

“Lockpicking wasn’t in the Herald’s report of you.  In fact, she didn’t make you out to be the kind of person who...dabbled in such things.”

I felt the pressure of her eyes on me, awaiting my response.  It kind of felt like my answer was gonna be majorly judged, so I tried to actually think of a good thing to say.

“Well, I am from a city.  And I’m an elf.  You kinda have to pick up some things as you go, ya know?  To, like, not die.”

“I was under the impression that you haven’t been to many cities since you arrived in Ferelden seven years ago.  And yet, considering the lock you just broke through, it seems your skills are still quite up to date.”

“Wait a second, you the spymaster?”

She raised both eyebrows now, before inclining her head ever so slightly.

“I am also rather confused about you.” She told me, kind of randomly, if you asked me.  “You say you lived in Kirkwall, and then, for reasons unknown, you moved to Ferelden.  To travel the country, yes?”

Was this an interrogation? Because it sure felt like one.

“Uh, yeah…” I said, not really knowing where she wanted to go with this. 

“It’s impressive.  For such a young boy to travel alone, across such a dangerous country.”  
“Um, lady – er, ser? I’m, like, twenty-six.”

“But you would have been only nineteen when you left Kirkwall, correct?  To me, that sounds rather young.  Especially to be wandering around on your own.”

“I don’t get it,” I told her bluntly.  “Am I in trouble? ‘Cuz I swear I’m not, like, one of the bad guys or anything.  Okay, I’ve stolen before and, obviously, I’ve broken into places, and I might’ve pickpocketed some people on various occasions,” I paused, before hurriedly adding, “but not, like, while I’ve been here or anything!  And, I left Kirkwall, ‘cuz it sucked, ya know?  Especially for an elf! But, I’m harmless, I swe–”

“Please, calm down,” The spymaster, or I guess I can say Leliana, told me in a firm tone. “I am not accusing you of anything at all.  I am simply curious over your rather… odd story.”

Ah, good.  Word vomit usually worked wonders in making people less suspicious, or interested, in me.  Probably because it made me sound like a blathering idiot, which is precisely why I do it.  In any case, Leliana wasn’t looking at me in that nerve-wracking way, as she had been before.

Rubbing the back of my head, I said, “It’s really not that odd.  Was just tryin’ to find a place I belong, ya know?  Get some wordly experience and all that."

She didn’t grin, or even nod, but she did take a step back, towards the gate. 

“As it stands, I would rather you _not_ pick any more locks during your stay with us,” She informed me sternly.  “If you would like reading material, I suggest you peruse the upper level of the Chantry, or you might even ask Varric.  I am confident that he has the perfect connections to satisfy all your literary needs.”

I laughed awkwardly, following her out of the room and subsequently watching her lock the door once more.  She made a gesture for me to walk with her, so I followed her down the hallway as well. 

I was pretty disappointed that my reading venture didn’t pan out.  I mean, I still had the upper floor of the Chantry, like Leliana said, but to know that there was a whole room of shit that I wasn’t allowed to read?  That hurt.

“Tell me, Fitz,” Leliana began, as we neared the staircase. “Why did you decide to join us?”

Without missing a beat, I told her the simple truth.

“Amrita wanted me to.”

The woman looked faintly surprised. “I didn’t know the two of you were so close.”

“I mean, we’re not.  Not really,” I interrupted myself to laugh awkwardly yet again.  “We first met when she saved me from slavers.  I guess that kinda makes you like a person, right?”

“Hm.”

We parted as soon as we made it upstairs.  She headed further into the Chantry, towards Josephine’s office.  I had a feeling she would be discussing me with the ambassador. 

I tried to shrug the strange meeting off.  I certainly hadn’t made a very good impression, snooping around and breaking into rooms and what not.  I was comforted by the idea that I wasn’t _really_ doing anything bad.  Bad would be like, knowing how to fix the giant hole in the sky and withholding that information.  Everything bad I’d ever done was to Hawke, and even then, that had more to do with personal-relationship crap than it did with, let’s say, being a danger to the good of all mankind or something like that.

My secrets weren’t really the kind that the Inquisition could suss out either.  The most they’d find out is that I broke the law a couple times, got arrested once in Kirkwall, and was overall a juvenile delinquent type.  My story in Kirkwall was pretty basic to anyone who tried to find it out.  Of course, she might find out about my connections to Hawke, but that was the worst of it though.  All the people related to my arrival in Kirkwall were dead, and no one else knew about my circumstances.  She wouldn’t find out anything of my Kirkwall days that would raise any real red flags, as far as I remember.

I also doubted that Leliana would find out much about my time in Ferelden.  Maybe she’d find some of the places I worked at, but it’s not like I really even talked to the people there.  And I usually left towns with little drama (except that one notable time, but everyone knows the rogue Templars are an insane bunch, so no one could really hold it against me for leaving like I did).

Besides, a goddamn war was going on, not to mention the minor fact that we had a big freaking hole in the sky.  Leliana would have a pretty hard time tracking down every little step of my Ferelden adventures, and I highly doubted she’d even see the need for it to begin with.  It would be a wild goose chase, basically, and all the while it’d seem like a pointless endeavor to over-analyze boring old me.  Even if she decided to keep an eye on me in camp, I was confident that, compared to everything else, my ‘oddities’ were very low on her long list of priorities.

Now, my magic-deflection abilities, on the other hand.  That was the sort of information a spymaster would be interested in.  So, I just had to hope she doesn’t find any of the mages who fought me, and still live to tell the tale (not that they know my name or anything).  I don’t think there are many, in any case.

However, I couldn’t afford to be more suspicious than necessary.  So that meant no more breaking into places and getting caught.  I’ll just have to cope with being stuck reading whatever’s in the general area.  Maybe when Solas’ gets back I can ask him for books.  He seemed like the type to hoard them.  I mean, I could actually just ask him questions about the Fade, but no promises on that front. 

For now, though, it’s ground level Chantry for me.  Although, I didn’t immediately go looking for stuff after Leliana left me.  I knew I had to go do my bit around camp first and save the reading for leisure time (instead of hitting up the tavern again). 

In all, I was pretty hopeful about everything, which was new for me.  I was excited to join the scouts and see more of what this world had to offer.  It opened up so many opportunities, too; not only for experience but also for knowledge.  There was no telling what we were gonna find at the places we’d be exploring.  I might find information about my situation and how to get home.  It felt like anything was possible with the Inquisition. 

I guess it was also nice being around people again; to not be alone anymore.  Even if it was just physically. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna be pretty much winging the scouting thing, so if any parts sound unrealistic or weird, pls let me know!  
> thanks for reading!


	31. Act II: I'm Not Elfy, You're Elfy!

I was still in Haven when Amrita got back from Val Royeaux.  She seemed pretty beat, and she quickly told me that their talk with the Chantry hadn’t even been a talk.  I had to cringe when she explained what went down; it sounded _bad_.  Cassandra was upset about it, too, judging from the way she began hitting the practice dummies right after returning. 

However, it wasn’t all bad.  Amrita came back with not one, but _two_ new Inquisition members.  I was told that one of them was a higher-up Orlesian mage, and she wasn’t physically at Haven yet, but she was on her way.  Which was good.  She sounded like a powerful ally, if anything.

The other new member, though.  She came right along with Amrita and the crew from wherever they’d ended up meeting her.  After only one day, I’m pretty sure everyone in camp knew about her, too. 

Sera was loud, obnoxious, and inappropriate.  And I’m not talking sometimes.  I’m saying she’s like that pretty much 24/7.  She made awful jokes, had no qualms telling people off, and she didn’t try to ask any invasively deep questions.  And, she sure as hell didn’t give two shits about people’s pasts. 

We got along almost immediately.  I think she liked me even more once she found out I didn’t care about being all ‘elfy’ or whatever that was supposed to mean.  I could tell it grated on Amrita’s nerves when Sera had straight-out asked me ‘if I was also elfy’.  However, when I responded with, ‘the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’, I think Sera got me. 

I think I got drunk with her (and sometimes Amrita) almost every night until it was time for me to go on my first scouting mission.  It wasn’t healthy, I know, but it helped being dead drunk by the time I’d have to return to Varric’s cabin at night.  He didn’t confront me about the letter business until a few days before I left.

It went about as well as you’d imagine, especially considering it was early in the morning and I was hungover. 

I was laid up in bed, with my eyes closed, listening to Varric putter around as he got ready for the day.  It made me think about way back, when I used to live with Merrill, and I felt something inside me ache.  I opened one eye, to gauge what time of mood Varric was in, before I decided to speak.

“Hey, Varric,” I asked, my voice raspy and kind of cringe-worthy (at least to my ears).  Varric turned to me after a split second.  I had caught him while he was sat at his desk, probably writing more fucking letters. 

“Yes?” He drawled out, raising an eyebrow at me.

“How’s Merrill?” I asked tentatively, before hastily adding, “And the others?”

Varric stared at me for a minute, his lips pursed a bit.  He still wasn’t happy with me, but I knew it was more disappointment than anger at this point.  I waited for him to simply say ‘why don’t you write them and ask for yourself’, but he never said that. 

“Daisy’s fine.  Still in the alienage.  She told me, not too long ago, that she’s been more or less in charge there, for a while now.  Rivaini got her ship, and I hear she makes more trips to visit Daisy than is strictly necessary,” He grinned at that last statement, and I felt my own lips curl into a smile as I thought about the two of them.  Varric continued, “Broody’s more or less everywhere these days.  He’s tracking, and killing, slavers.  And then Aveline’s basically running Kirkwall.  She’s keeping everyone in line, as I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear.”

Varric seemed to hesitate, but he finally added, “Don’t know where Blondie’s got to.  Hawke told him to leave the city after…you know.  Haven’t heard from him, but I’m…I’m sure he’s fine.”

My happiness was sapped after hearing that last bit.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was happy to hear that Anders was still alive, as far as they knew.  But, it hurt to think about how everything turned out.  I always knew Anders got all up in arms about mage rights, but I never thought he’d go ballistic like he did. 

We were silent for a bit after that, but I had unwittingly given Varric the perfect opening for cornering me.  He waited til I had gotten out of bed and was putting on my second shirt, before pouncing.

“So, kid, you going to tell me why you never gave me a letter?”

The way he said it reminded me sharply of a teacher asking me for missing homework, which was odd since I haven’t been to school since I was sixteen years old.  I blinked at him, forgetting momentarily to put my arms through the armholes of my sweater.  I hastily did so and turned around to fish my bag out from under my cot.

“I dunno, my words didn’t come out good…” I muttered to my bed, trying not to think about Varric’s disappointment.  I was slightly embarrassed, to be honest.  Or maybe that was just the guilt.

“Oh come on, kid.  All you have to do is slap some words on paper and that’s that.  He isn’t going to be looking for poetry or a damn novel.  I bet he’d just be happy to know you still care enough to write.”

Yeah, that’s what worried me. 

“I don’t think he wants to hear from me, Varric.” I told him, flat-out.  I shifted awkwardly in front of the dwarf, definitely feeling the weight of his judgment.  “It’s better if I just let Ha – _him_ move on.  He doesn’t need to be reminded about me and what I–”  I had to stop there because I was starting to get too emotional.  I just wished Varric would stop looking at me like that.

I took a breath and continued, “That’s why I tried to ask you _not_ to tell him about me.”

“Well, fat chance, kid.  Even if it had only been a _rumor_ of you, you can bet your ass I’d be writing to him about it.  And I know he’d want me to.”  Varric gave me a pointed look, which I only partially struggled to ignore.  My head was pounding at this point. 

“Listen, Varric.  Lecture me all you want, I get it.  I fucked up and you think it can be fixed, but it can’t.  Plain and simple.  Now, I gotta go meet someone named Charter about an upcoming scout mission.  See ya.” And with that, I hightailed it out of the room without so much as looking back.  He didn’t call after me.

~

I found Charter not too far from our cabin, just down the path a bit.  I couldn’t miss her either.  Josephine had told me that the woman had orange hair and was an elf, and there weren’t many who fit that description in Haven.  So, being pretty confident in my assumption, I went up to her. 

“I hear you’re the one to talk to about getting in on a scouting mission.” 

The elven woman looked at me coolly.  Immediately, I could tell that she was a professional, and _not_ to be fucked with. 

“And just who are you?”  
“’M Fitz.  Talked to Ambassador Montilyet a few days ago about joining the scouts.  I have enough experience.”

We talked a little; her firing off question after question at me.  I knew she was testing me, it was obvious.  But, I totally passed.  At the end, she just curtly nodded and told me she’d put me on the list for the party leaving for the Storm Coast the very next morning.  I’d even been to the Storm Coast before, which Charter seemed impressed to learn.  I was relieved, and excited, about the quickness with which we’d be leaving.  That may have been mostly due to my recent spat with Varric, but can you blame me?

I spent the rest of the day helping the local healer, a grumpy guy called Adan.  He had me gathering elfroot for part of the day, which was as boring as it sounds.  I also did some simple healing for the patients that Adan didn’t have time to get to; only bandaging, cleaning, and those sorts of things.  I’d been working with him since a certain spymaster kicked me out of the Chantry’s basement, and I have to say, it’s worked out pretty well.  I just kind of showed up and offered help, which Adan gruffly accepted by immediately ordering me to gather more herbs.  He taught me some basic potion mixing, too, but that was mostly just overseeing him make them.  I would then be responsible for putting them into the right containers, and knowing which people to hand them over to.  It was simple and I liked it well enough. 

Later in the day, right around the time that I’d usually be heading off to find Sera at the tavern, I was still working in one of the patient cabins.  I was just cleaning up when I heard a noise by the open door.

I turned to see Solas standing there, watching me. 

“Uh, hey, man.”

He raised an eyebrow, and then I became aware of all this shouting going on, from far off in the distance.  Frowning, I opened my mouth to say something, but Solas beat me to it.

“If my hearing is correct, I believe Sera is looking for you.  She is yelling something about a duel.  And has been, for a few minutes now.”

“Oh shit,” I said.  She must’ve found out that I’d be leaving in the morning.  The other day, while drunk, she’d duped me into challenging her to an archery contest, despite Amrita’s repeated warnings.  I’d been trying to forget about it, and Sera hadn’t said anything so I figured I was in the clear.  But, I guess she would be the type to uphold drunken dares. 

Thinking quickly, as I heard Sera’s dulcet tones drawing nearer, I begged, “Please! Hide me!”

Solas blinked at me, but then in the next second I dove out of sight, under one of the empty cots.  I should also add that the only inhabitant of the cabin was one very unconscious man and he didn’t so much as twitch at the ruckus, so it was all good. 

Not a second later, I heard Sera outside the building.

“Oi, elfy, you seen Fitz?”

“Ir abelas?”

“Ugh.  Fitz?  Tall, brown hair, stupid face?”

Solas must’ve just given her a look, because I didn’t hear him speak.  I tried not to snicker and blow my cover.  Solas was still standing in front of the doorway, and he must’ve been acting as a shield because I didn’t see Sera so much as try to peer into the cabin.  I knew from all the times we hung out this week that Sera disliked the guy immensely.  Even though she’s only known Solas for like a week, give or take.  She wasn’t really the type to hide her dislike, so I almost expected to hear her cursing at him any minute.

I heard Sera make an ungodly noise, a weird grunt-groan hybrid that I was basically forced to laugh at.  Luckily, she must’ve already started stomping away because I wasn’t found out.  A minute later, Solas turned back to me and informed me that it was safe to come out now.

“Heh, thanks!  I owe you one.”

“I did nothing.”

“Ah, right.  Sweet,” I hesitated, wondering about something.  Being that I was leaving in the morning, I decided to be impulsive, especially since Solas was still standing there, watching me.

“Hey, Solas, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think…could I borrow some books?”

“While I do not have many books at my disposal as of right now, I suppose you could.  What are you looking for?”  The glint in his eye was definitely curiosity.

“Oh…right.  I didn’t think about that,” I said, referring to the fact that he probably only had a handful of books right now.  Duh, he was a travelling apostate before the Conclave.  It’s not exactly realistic to go around with a fucking library on your back.  I would know.

“If you have questions, I may be able to answer them for you,” Solas offered, ever so politely. 

I watched his face for signs of…something, but it was all just polite curiosity.  I’d even say he looked welcoming.  I decided to go for it.  Solas honestly didn’t strike me as the blabbing type, anyways.

“I’m interested in the Fade.  I know you’re the resident Fade expert, so I figured I’d ask you for books…since I leave tomorrow, and I know you’re busy.  I just want to…uh, understand it better?  I guess?”

“You may ask me anything and I will answer to the best of my abilities.  You need only ask.” He said it kindly, and I felt a bit more confident.

“Maybe we can speak when I get back?  If you’re still here?”

“Of course.  I look forward to it.” Solas even smiled at me, and I almost gaped.  It felt like I had just won something, like I just scored major points with the guy.  Fuck yeah.

“Cool!  Well, I better go.  It’s gonna be hard sneaking around while Sera’s hunting me, but I gotta eat.  Later, Solas!” 

Solas didn’t really answer, he kind of just watched me go with a thoughtful look on his face (ugh).  I only noticed because I turned back to wave at him.  At least, he didn’t seem like the pushy type, so I wasn’t too worried about him interrogating me.  I just had to be careful, seeing as he was a mage and all.

At the end of the day, I got my last dinner at Haven without too much trouble.  Sera did catch me after, though.  I was forced to undergo huge humiliation in front of various recruits (and Amrita) as I utterly lost at target practice against Sera, who was like an archery champ or something.  Luckily, I didn’t make a bet out of it so I wasn’t forced to, like, wear frilly pants or anything embarrassing like that.  Sera did try, but Amrita put her foot down.  If Sera listened to anyone, ever, it was Amrita.  Like me, Amrita got along with Sera pretty well, despite being rather ‘elfy’. 

Amrita was sad about my going.  While we watched the sunset that day, sitting on the high wall that overlooked the practice yard, she lamented the shortness of our time together since she’d gotten back.  I countered by mentioning the fact that we’d been to the tavern nearly every night since her return.  She gave me a look, and, for a second, I thought she was gonna lecture me on my drinking habits.  Whatever it was that she was thinking about, she held it in.

Instead, she mentioned her next course of business. 

“We were offered some mercenaries today.”

“No shit?  Awesome.”

“Quite,” She said, making a face at my wording.  “Some man came by to tell me about someone called The Iron Bull.  I think we’re going to head out to meet them, once we’ve finished up some things in the Hinterlands.”

“Where they at then?”

Amrita sighed, “It’s really amazing how alike you and Sera are.  You’re both atrocious at grammar.”

“It’s a lifestyle.  Deal with it.” I laughed.

“Anyways, we’ll have to travel to some place called the Storm Coast.”

 “No way!  That’s where I’m headed, too!”

“Really?  We might see each other.” She said, before turning thoughtful.  “I haven’t heard much about the area.  Have you ever been there?”

“Huh, oh yeah.  Once.  Lots of rain and cliffs.  Lovely place.”

Amrita watched me, a smile beginning to form on her face. “I take it you have many fond memories, then?”  
I snorted. “Yeah, let’s call it that.  I didn’t stay long.  It wasn’t...uh, safe.  I was really only there 'cuz I sorta…wandered in?  Totally not by accident.”

She laughed and hit my shoulder.  “You didn’t!”

I cringed.  “I did.  It was infested with bears and bandits so I couldn’t even ask for directions.  I think I was stuck there for a few weeks, just trying to get out.”

“That’s a long time to be lost.” Amrita said, looking at me in disbelief.  Probably wondering how I’d even managed before I met her.

I mean, to be fair, I spent most of my time on the Storm Coast looking for something.  Only a few days were actually spent trying to find my way back to civilization.  I probably should’ve just said that I was lost for, like, two days, but I had spoken without really thinking.  One of the many faults of mine; saying stupid shit.

“You remember how bad my map sucked.” I shrugged at her.

“It did, didn’t it?  Well! Luckily, from now on you’ll be with a team!  And scouts always have the best maps.  I hear you’ll even be updating some of them…” She said that last bit, slyly, and I realized she must’ve spoken to Josephine about me.

“I took art in – Kirkwall.”  Oh my god, I almost said high school.  Wow, new low.

She looked at me in confusion and I knew I had to elaborate.

“Heh, it’s an inside joke.  You can ask Varric.  I hung out with some elves who…partook in public displays of artistic expression… regularly.”

She sort of gawked at me, before finally shaking her head.  Her reply was, “And then there are other times, when you speak like a blighted history book.”

I grinned at her.  “I try.  Impressed?”

“Hardly.  Please, tell me more about your public displays of artistic expression.”

She got a pretty good kick out of my stories about the different kinds of graffiti we imparted on many of the building in Kirkwall.  I even told her about the time we tagged an entire wall in broad daylight, during the busiest time of day.  She seemed impressed that we never got caught, maybe even a bit doubtful, but we really were just that badass.

“Of course, I’ll mostly be recording the fauna and shit we see in the north.  I hope they ask me to draw a fennec.”

“I’m sure you’ll be great at it, too.  Just…no running off on your own, got it?”

I looked at her.  She was watching the sky, but I could also see her biting her lip.

I nudged her shoulder with my own.  “Now, don’t go worryin’ about me.  You know I can handle myself.”

She nodded, and, when she met my gaze, I didn’t see any signs of sadness, like I had been expecting.  She smiled at me brightly and stood up.

“How about we go see what Sera’s up to?  Of course, you won’t be drinking.  You actually have to get up in the morning.”

I grumbled, but knew it was for the best.  I got up and leapt from the wall, unintentionally scaring some soldier walking by.  He cursed at me, and I’m pretty sure I heard a ‘knife-ear’ thrown in there, too.  Not really feeling up to a fight, I didn’t say anything, and I pushed Amrita along when it looked like she was about to call out to the soldier.

“Come on,” I muttered to her.  “I’ll get him back later.  Won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“He should be reprimanded by the Inquisition.  Not by you.” She told me sternly.

I shrugged. “So go tell.  I’m going to the tavern, though.”

“Ugh, Fitz.  I don’t get you sometimes.  You were ready to start a fight over pushy refugees back at the Crossroads, but not here?”

“Just don’t feel like it.  It’s my last night in Haven.  Besides, I’m tryin’ to give a good impression here, yeah?  Oh shit, did I tell you about how I met Leliana?”

She gave me a flat, ‘no’, so I began a very self-deprecating version of that particular first impression of mine.  She was pretty amused by it, too, and forgot all about the ‘knife-ear’ guy.  I wasn’t gonna tell her, but I’d seen that guy around a bunch of times and he was always a bastard.  I also had an idea on how to get him back, too, but for that I was gonna need to enlist Sera’s help.

~

When I returned to the cabin that night, Varric didn’t mention, or even acknowledge, the sort-of spat we’d had.  Instead, we talked about the scouts and my upcoming mission.  He even made sure to tell me to be careful, and I could tell he was worried.

“I’m not scared,” I told him, burrowing into my cot with my blanket wrapped securely around me.  The fire in our room was bright and it was warm enough that I barely felt the typical Frostbacks chill at all.

Making a conscious effort not to mutter into my blanket, I told him, “I think it’s gonna be fun.  Charter said we’re goin’ North….to, like, that one place… I been all round there already, so I’ma be able to help.” 

“Doesn’t make it any less dangerous, kid.  Promise me you’ll be careful.”  He thought for a second, tapping the end of his ever-present quill against his chin.  “And that you’ll write me if you’re gone longer than two weeks.”

“Sure thing, Varric,” I muttered, already outrageously sleepy. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.  I’ll be fine.”

I heard him sigh as the last of my will to stay awake left me, and before I completely fell asleep I heard him murmur one last thing.

“I’m always going to be worrying about you, Scholar.  We all are.”

~

Varric’s words didn’t hit me until the next morning, when we were already an hour or so away from Haven.  It may sound stupid, but I had to blink back the burn of tears.

Last night was the first time he called me ‘Scholar’ since before I left Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have two chapters for today! :D :D  
> to any of you celebrating Christmas, Merry Christmas!


	32. Act II: Scouting the Coast

Our trip started off pretty well.  The warmer weather during the daytime made travelling much more enjoyable.  We were walking, so either we still didn’t have enough horses for everybody (which was likely) or scouts weren’t important enough for them.  I didn’t ask, though there was some grumbling among my fellow scouts.  One of whom kept muttering about how he only joined because he was such an excellent rider.

Our company leader had just looked back at us in disgust.  She was a rather severe looking woman of middle age with the contradictory-sounding name of Jemmy.  She told us straight-out that horses were being used for longer journeys than ours.  She also said that scouting required a certain degree of finesse that a bunch of tromping horses lacked.  The main grumbler looked suitably chastised, and I couldn’t help but smirk.

I got the sense that most of the others weren’t frequent campers.  I was willing to bet that most of them usually had a horse for long trips (evidence: the main grumbler and the smattering of nods I saw at his words).  Or, they didn’t leave their towns if they could help it, which I knew to be rather typical for most farmers in Ferelden. 

I was the only elf in the company.  There was one other person who used to live in a city, but we were the only two who weren’t born and raised in the Ferelden countryside.  Now, I didn’t ask for any of this information.  It was sort of forced onto me because the other scouts kept blabbing on and on about themselves.  I guess it was something called ‘team bonding’ or whatever, but I wasn’t all that interested. 

Okay, I was being slightly bitter.  The first thing said to me by one of my colleagues was a dazed, ‘Wow, you’re tall for an elf,’, followed by a muttered, ‘Probably one of those forest knife-ears’.  I didn’t catch exactly who said it at first, but I quickly found out when he kept on talking throughout the trip.  Anyways, the whole thing put me in a sour mood.  I hadn’t said anything, because I knew that, if I had, it would have come out overly-loud and aggressive.  I didn’t want to get in trouble with our company leader in the first few hours of the damn trip.  And Jemmy really didn’t look like she’d put up with any fights.

However, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t still excited to be out and about.  And, I had an actual uniform!  I had an honest to god helmet (first time ever) and a dope-ass cowl to go over it.  I was also given leather vambraces and tall boots, which were nice because it meant less rocks could get stuck at the bottom of the shoe.  Even though others already knew I was an elf, the helmet and cowl combo completely hid my elven appearance, even more so than when I just had long hair.  Also, while it was pretty cool to have a helmet and everything, I didn’t like it all that much.  It pushed on my ears and I didn’t like having all this crap covering my face.  In my opinion, it made it hard to look around at everything, which seemed pretty dumb when you consider the fact that we’re _scouts_.  I didn’t complain though, just silently resolved to take the damn thing off when I wasn’t in sight of any higher-ups.

When we made camp that night, I was put on first watch along with the horse grumbler.  He did introduce himself as Sawyer, and I guess he seemed nice enough.  He talked a lot, nervously.  After about half an hour, I took pity on him and tried to contribute more to his flailing conversations.

He’d already told me that this was his first mission and that he’d never been this far north of Ferelden before.  Jumping off that, I told him I’d been all through here. 

“Really?” He stared at me, wide-eyed, and then his next words almost made me scowl, “So, was it true what Foster said?  You’re Dalish?”

“Ugh, no.  I was just travelling.  Not every elf outside of a city is Dalish, jeez.” I griped at him.  I’ll give him credit though, he did immediately apologize.

“It’s just…I haven’t met many elves.  At least, not until joining the Inquisition.  No elves ever lived in my village.”

“Yeah, okay.” I said, my anger deflating despite the curtness of my words.  Shifting uncomfortably as an awkward silence fell between us, I sighed and decided I might as well try to be friendlier.

“So, last time I was around here – I was, like, in a small town just west of… Denerim, maybe? – it doesn’t matter.  Anways, I was workin’ in a bar, right?  Nastiest drinks I’ve ever smelled, or drank, but the people in that tavern swallowed it down like fuckin’ water.  But, that’s not the point.  One day, I was minding my business, you know? Just working, and then all of a sudden the doors fly open and this kid falls through.  Only he’d been chasing all these fuckin’ nugs.  So we don’t just got a kid in our bar, but about five nugs running under tables and shit,” I held my head, just remembering that day.  Sawyer laughed, which was my goal.  “Then, my boss had _me_ running around chasing the poor things out, while the entire bar laughed at me.”

I was pretty sure it was a ruse so that the kid could steal a mug of ale for him and his friends.  He might’ve succeeded, too, because he’d disappeared right after letting the nug squad in.  I told Sawyer this, too, and he grinned before confirming it for me. 

“That sounds like exactly the thing a country boy would do.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to wring his neck.”

That got us talking about other funny stories from our lives.  He had a few good ones, and mine would’ve been better if I’d told him some of the ones from Kirkwall.  But, I’d been thinking about those memories way too much recently, so I was trying desperately _not_ to think about them.  I didn’t even mention that I’d lived in Kirkwall.

On that trip throughout northern Ferelden, I found that my company wasn’t as bad as that one ‘knife-ear’ comment suggested.  Only that one guy, Foster, was actively hostile to me, but, even then, he preferred to ignore me rather than fight. 

Either way, we all made it to the Storm Coast in one piece.  Jemmy met up with the lieutenant of the company already scouting the area, while the rest of us grunts stood in the back ground waiting for orders.  I recognized the area, which I was pleased to find out as I looked all around us.  I got distracted pretty quickly as I took in my surrounding.  I was busy wondering if the tree a few yards over was the same exact one I’d climbed once when I had to hide from bandits.  I was about to wander over to check, when I was jolted by the sound of my last name being shouted.

“Oi! Neves!”

It took me another second to realize Jemmy was calling _me_ over.  It’d been so long since anyone called me by ‘Neves’, and, honestly, I totally forgot I’d even told it to Josephine.  Before Jemmy could get annoyed by my dumbfounded state, I did a weird little walk-run thing to get over to her quickly (in my defense: she was pretty intimidating, and she looked like she ate nails for breakfast). 

“Yea– uh, yes, ser?”

“Charter said you’ve been here before.  Is that right?”

I looked between her and the lieutenant she’d been talking to; a young dwarven woman with a lot of pretty freckles that decorated her cheeks and branched out to cover her forehead as well.  Jemmy didn’t introduce me, but I figured she’d just forgot.

“Yup, for a few weeks.  Like, just about a year ago, though.”

“Good enough.  I want you to scope out the beach, get reacquainted with the area.  There’s a group of mercenaries camped out on the beach who are hoping to join the Inquisition, so no need to hide from them.  Take Foster and Sawyer with you.  I want the three of you collecting as much blood lotus as your sacks can carry.  Oh, and Neves, send the rest of the scouts to me.”

“Uh, ser, I just go by Fitz, by the way…”

She waved her hand impatiently.  “Right, Fitz, whatever! Just send them over!”

“Ser, yes, ser!”  I held back a stupid salute, and loped away.  

The others stared at me as I returned.  “Yo, Sawyer, Foster, we’re goin’ to the beach.  Rest o’ you, go talk to Jemmy.”

They went without questioning me.  Foster, on the other hand, had many questions.  Or, rather, statements. 

He pushed past me and Sawyer, so he could walk in front of us.  He turned his head slightly so he could glare at me.

“Let’s get one thing straight, elf.  Just because that old blighter talked to you, doesn’t mean you’re in charge.  So, don’t you dare try to order me around.”

“Pfft. ‘Kay.”

He stomped off ahead of us, and I exchanged a look with Sawyer. 

Nudging his shoulder, I exclaimed, “Well, this will be fun.  I bet you tonight’s bread that I can make him call me a knife-ear in five minutes.”

Looking at me aghast, Sawyer sputtered at me. “Why would you want to?”

“Lighten up, if I get him angry enough he might try to hit me.  Then I can actually hit him back.”

Sawyer shook his head at me, “ _Both_ of you would just get in trouble.”

“Come on, you gonna bet me or not?”  
“…Ten minutes.”

I whooped, and quickened my pace so that I could catch up to Foster, with Sawyer trailing just behind me.

~

It took just between five and ten minutes to get Foster to call me a ‘knife-ear’, so neither me nor Sawyer won extra bread that night.  I didn’t get my fight either.  I was surprised, too, because I was doing my damnedest to be annoying, although it did look like Foster was trying his hardest not to snap.  Good for him.

We got a good look at the band of mercenaries looking to get in with the Inquisition.  I was a bit surprised to see a Qunari; I hadn’t seen one of those guys since back in Kirkwall, and even then I didn’t tend to see them a whole lot.  Sawyer and Foster were likewise shocked, although more so than me.  I think they were kind of scared too, which was perfectly reasonable just because this particular Qunari was a fucking tank (and that’s saying a lot).  I had to figure that this was the one called ‘the Iron Bull’ that Amrita had mentioned, and hence the leader of this merry band. 

They were a bright bunch, too.  Loud and rough, with a really diverse mix of people.  They had all sort; humans, dwarves, elves, and that one Qunari.  It was also cool, because they are seemed pretty chill.  I didn’t get a sense of any sort of strict hierarchy, either.  It was literally like seeing a sports team hang out.

We didn’t try to talk to them, though, and they didn’t try to talk to us.  We set off to work, gathering blood lotus til our fingers just about fell off.  Foster wandered off, farther down the beach, while Sawyer basically stuck by my side.  I thought it wise to stick together, but I wasn’t about to say that to such a jackass. 

It did get boring though.  There was a shit ton of lotus lying around, everywhere we turned it was like we’d just be bending down to pick some of the damn thing up again.  Sometimes it lay right in the path of the incoming waves that continually crashed onto shore (rather violently, might I add).  We had to be extra careful, lest we wanted to be soaked with ocean water as well as rain water.

It was on that beach that my first blanking spell happened.  I took to calling it a ‘blanking spell’ since I would literally just blank the fuck out for a few minutes at a time.  In the beginning, like this first time, it was probably only for a minute or two at most.  It was a lot like during a panic attack, when I’d zone out and lose all sense of my surroundings, only I never felt an ounce of panic during these spells.  It was almost peaceful, for lack of better wording. 

I was crouched down in the act of bundling up a few pieces of blood lotus when I lost all presence.  The only reason I even knew it happened at all was because Sawyer began shaking my shoulder, and, when I came to, I felt off.  Like I knew I hadn’t been asleep or unconscious, but couldn’t for the life of me remember what I’d even been thinking five minutes ago, or what I’d been doing.  I turned to find Sawyer leaning over my crouched form, looking at me worriedly. 

“Oh.” I said, as some things clicked in my head.  I remembered all at once that I’d been picking blood lotus and thinking about how across this ocean lay Kirkwall.  It figured, for all my trying, I couldn’t stop thinking about the damn place.

“You alright, Fitz?”

“Ye–”  My confirmation was abruptly cut off when a harsh shove to my back sent me flying forward, into the rocky sand.  It also sent me face-first into the water that was lapping at the shore.  I sputtered and flailed, Sawyer trying desperately to help me up, bless him.  When he finally got me standing, I could hear faint (but raucous) laughter coming from the mercenary camp.

“Come on, you two.  Stop slacking off and let’s go back to camp.”  I heard Foster call out. 

I knew immediately that he was the one who pushed me.  He was already walking away from us, heading back towards camp, but he must’ve just passed us by.  Clenching my hands into fists, I tried to control my anger, even though I sorely wanted to punch him. 

“He’s a bastard, but he’s not worth it.”  Sawyer was trying to tell me, and he was right, in a way.  But, tell that to uncontrollable rage and see if that works.  Not that my anger was uncontrollable, but I was getting there.  I always did have a short fuse.

“Yeah.” I bit out, glancing over at the mercenaries who were still laughing.  One of them mimed flailing, and I scowled.

“Yo! Fuck off!” I yelled, giving them the finger.  Sawyer was quick to pull me away then, practically dragging me back towards the small path that would eventually bring us back to camp.  Unfortunately, my yelling only received more laughter and Sawyer wasn’t letting me retaliate, so I had to suck it up. 

Walking into camp, dripping wet instead of slightly damp from the light rain, was pretty embarrassing.  Some of the other scouts snickered at me, and I just knew Foster had probably already started bragging.  It was all so childish, like middle school.  I almost puked.

Jemmy wasn’t impressed either.

“I told you to collect blood lotus, Fitz, not take a swim.”

“Really, ser?  But, it’s such a nice day for it.” I drawled, giving the stink eye to some scouts who were still laughing at me. 

“Alright, alright.  Go dry off before you get sick.  And put your damn herbs in that chest over there.”

I didn’t end up getting sick, thank god.  I did have to deal with a lot of water jokes for a few days, though.  However, once I’d gotten over my anger, it was pretty easy to just joke back or ignore the mean ones.  And, I think most of them were truly just joking.  Only Foster was insistent on being a dumb motherfucker.

~

For the most part, the group I arrived with stayed at the northern most camp on Storm Coast for the entirety of our trip, although we did get traded around a lot.  One of the woman and two men in our party were sent down south to join scouts at other campsites.  Unfortunately, Foster wasn’t one of them.  Sawyer was though, which I was slightly disappointed about.  He was chill, even if he was pretty country.

A few days into our stay, we were told that the Herald would be arriving soon.  Two days after we received that announcement, Amrita and the others finally showed up.  It was around midday, so it was still pretty light out.  Well, just about as bright as the Storm Coast could ever get.

The day before, Jemmy had given me a journal and a book on herbs; so that if there were any herbs I couldn’t identify, all I had to do was look them up.  I had been tasked with logging all of our findings into the journal, I guess since I had the best handwriting or something.  So far I hadn’t needed to use the book on herbs for anything, though I was pretty sure I’d end up flipping through it just for fun later on. 

On the day Amrita arrived, I had spent that entire morning writing in my new journal.  Once I was done, the journal was to be sent back to Haven for study, as well as for future reference.  I’d wandered down to the coast so that I could draw some of the flora I’d just written about, which I figured would be a nice addition to this neat encyclopedia we were making.  Of course, the Storm Coast wasn’t an ideal place for any kind of ink-related stuff, but I managed to ward off the worst of the rain while taking notes.  It’s just, most of my note-taking occurred when I was walking about and observing; just like I had to draw from sight instead of memory.  The trade-off for my wandering technique was that I was told if my work got too illegible, I would have to bury myself in one of the tents and copy the entire thing into a brand new journal.  Unsurprisingly, I was hoping to avoid that at all costs.

When afternoon hit, I was drawing a picture of spindleweed with a nice ocean background.  The mercenaries were training a few yards away from me, and, while it had been distracting at first, I was too far in the zone to be affected by their noise anymore. 

So, imagine I was super focused and into drawing my picture of spindleweed (it was looking pretty sick, if I do say so myself).  And, then, as I’m drawing, one of those mercenaries decided to actually talk to me. 

“That doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“Fuckin’ A–” I cursed as I jerked a little in surprise.  My picture was totally fine, but I was annoyed regardless.  I glared up at the guy who’d snuck up on me.  “Really, man?”

He just raised his eyebrows and held out his hands like he was proclaiming his innocence.

“Sorry, sorry.  I was just wondering how you were managing to draw in that position.”

I blinked at him, then took stock of how I was situated.  I was perched atop one of the larger rocks, not quite sitting on it, but rather putting all my weight on my feet which were firmly planted on the thing.  My chin was rested on my knees and my arms were outstretched in a way that I guess was pretty uncomfortable, I just hadn’t noticed since I was so focused.  Mostly, I was just attempting to angle myself so that my journal, which lay securely on top of my boots, were safe from the light rain that was falling diagonally against my back. 

Straightening out slightly, hearing a small pop in my back when I did, I waved my journal at him (still from under the safety of my torso, mind you). 

“Rain equals smeared ink.  Duh.”  I drew out the ‘uh’ just to make sure he felt extra dumb.  I don’t think it got through though, since he didn’t look at all phased.

“Maybe you should think about doing that inside.  Where there _isn’t_ any rain.”

I gave him a weird look.  “Um, stop trying to live my life, why don’t you?  I’ll do what I want.”

That caught him off guard enough that he actually started laughing.  Then, suddenly, he stopped, like he had an epiphany.

“Oh! Hey, you’re that guy who fell face first into the ocean!”

I scowled while he laughed even harder.  “I was pushed.”

All the merc did was laugh and slap his knee, like he just couldn’t handle the image of me falling, and flailing, into the water.

“Shouldn’t you be, like, hitting things with your buddies?”

Finally sobering up, he replied with, “We finished training ages ago.  We were actually just taking bets on how long it’d be before you leaned over too far and fell in the ocean.  How funny is it that you’re also the guy who actually _did_ fall into the ocean? Hah!”

“You’re hilarious.  Why don’t you go back to making bets now?”

“Oh, stand down.  I’m just making fun, don’t get your knickers in a twist.  Say, what do they call you, then?”

“Hmm, that depends.  Who’s they?  Because I get called a lot of different thing, sometimes–”

“I meant your name,” He said, grinning.

“Fitz.  You?”

“Krem.  Nice to meet you.”  He reached out an arm and I shook it.  Since it didn’t look like he was going to be leaving anytime soon, I closed up my journal and quickly stuffed it into my bag for safety.  I stood up from my rock, and stretched obnoxiously.

“Oh my god.  You’re right, that was a bad position.” I said, when I heard the cracking noises my back made.

“We’ve got drinks that’ll cure that, if you want to join us.”  Krem offered. 

“Well, actually… That doesn’t sound half bad.”  
I hopped off my rock, figuring I’d done enough work to warrant a break.  They never said I couldn’t drink on the job, so I might as well.  I mean, I wasn’t planning on getting dead drunk.  Besides, I kind of wanted to scope out this group for Amrita.  Make sure they’re not bad, and what not.  Seemed pretty alright so far, seeing as they just offered me free alcohol.

“Lookit here, boys.  I convinced the scout to drink with us.” Krem called out to the other mercenaries as we neared their camp.  There were some cheers at that, and suddenly I was wondering if they’d bet on that as well.  I didn’t get a chance to side-eye Krem, though, because next thing I knew we were under attack.

They came out of fucking nowhere, and they had mages.  I didn’t have time to even wonder who the hell was attacking us.  I basically just jumped in with the rest of the mercenaries and had at it.

I noticed Amrita right as I was plunging my dagger into the neck of a man I’d just snuck up on.  She jumped right in, as did the others with her.  Cassandra charged while Varric stood guard from the outside, shooting arrows with an insane amount of precision.  An arrow flew right by me, imbedding itself into one of the baddies who was lifting a sword at me from behind. 

I acted fast, ripping my dagger from the dead man’s neck and spinning around to swipe at the man currently whining about an arrow in one of his fleshy bits or something.  I made quick work of him, too.

Meanwhile, the fight flew by.  Sera could be heard shouting various curses at all the people she fought, and there were many other distractions, too.  Like trying not to get hit by one of the opposing mages.  Luckily, they must’ve deemed me pretty unimportant, though I really couldn’t blame them when you factor in the others.  I’d want to take out that Qunari and Cassandra as fast as I could, too.

When it was all over, I was relieved, as well as a bit hyped up.  I hadn’t had to fight like that since leaving the Crossroads, and, damn, if it didn’t get my blood pumping.  Especially when I found out the guys we’d just killed were Tevinter cult-bastards.  Fuck them.

Sera came to my side immediately, throwing an arm over my shoulder and performing a sort of headlock on me.  It was actually pretty savage; her strength, as well as the fact that she’d managed to get me in a headlock while still being a whole head shorter than me.

“You look like a frickin’ pillock in that gear!”  She laughed obnoxiously at me.  Then, without warning, she bashed her fist against my head, sending a cringe-worthy ringing through my ears. “How’s the ears helmetface?!”

“Ow, fuckin’ hell, Sera!”  I pushed at her, trying to elbow her in the sides.  She just danced away from me, laughing some more.  “You asshole, that wasn’t funny.”

“Shoulda seen yer face!”

“Ugh, can’t the two of you _grow up_?”

“Oh, ease up, Seeker.  Look how happy they are.” Varric said with a touch of overdramatic fondness.

“Sera started it,” I told Cassandra glumly, though she didn’t buy my pity act for a second.  Instead, she sent me a stern look and turned away to watch as Amrita talked things over with the Iron Bull.

“So, kid, it figures you’d get mixed up in this.”

“Huh?” I was busy making sure Sera didn’t punch me in the head again, since she’d resumed her previous position of throwing an arm around me (although, granted, this time was much less chokehold-y).

“Oh.  Yeah… I was actually working, so…”

“You were about to join us for drinks, so unless you count that as work…” Krem called out as he passed us by, heading in the direction that Amrita and his captain were sitting.  “Drinks are still on, by the way!  I’m about to open the casks.”

“Drinks! Yeah!” Sera cheered.  Varric raised an eyebrow at me.

“I _was_ working.  I literally just decided to take a break when those bastards jumped.” I looked back up at the hill that held my camp.  “I should actually get back.  You know, before I get told off or something.”

Sera groaned and tried to stop me.  Varric ended up having to peel her away from me with the promise of an embarrassing story of me.  I scowled, knowing he was either going to dredge something up from the past and pretend he made it up, or he actually _was_ going to make something completely wild (and embarrassing) up.  Either of which I would then never be able to live down.  But, still, I had to finish my journal, and hand it over before I somehow destroyed it by mistake.  Besides, Jemmy was probably going to tear me a new one just for being soaked in blood.

I couldn’t help but stop and look back.  And, as luck would have it, I looked down just in time to see Amrita shake hands with the Iron Bull before they stood and wandered over to the other Inquisition members. 

So, we got the mercs.  Of course, I had no idea yet how great they were going to be; as soldiers or as drinking buddies.  I also didn’t know just how observant their leader was going to turn out to be.  Hell, I hadn’t even gotten a chance to speak with the guy yet.  I did get a little taste of his perceptive nature though, when he turned his giant head towards me and waved, even though I was quite a ways up the hill by that point.  I waved back, a little weirded out, and quickly turned away.  I didn’t learn anything about him until I was back at Haven, which was quite a few weeks after he and his gang joined up.  And, let me tell you, I was not happy to find out we’d just gained a whole nother Leliana, only much bigger and with physical horns on his fucking head.  And armed with a giant fucking battleax. 

Overall, fun times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :))


	33. Act II: Dangerous Scouting Business

I stayed at the Storm Coast for quite a few weeks.

Amrita and the others were there for a while, too, or so I heard.  They were off almost at once, after getting in with the Iron Bull and his men.  They were dealing with a group of bandits that had been scouring the area for a while now.  It was a good thing too, because talk was that those bandits were killing scouts and Inquisition soldiers alike.  Our movements were severely restricted by their presence – a scout couldn’t go out and get shit done without either sneaking around or having a soldier accompany them.  It was annoying as fuck.

Once I’d delivered my finished journal to Jemmy, I was shipped off to do the same thing in one of the southern camps.  I was okay with it, especially since it got me away from Foster.  However, I couldn’t help but leave him with a small parting gift right before I left.  Since we shared a tent, I had easy access to his shit and so, while he was sleeping, I took one of his boots and cut a sliver of the heel down to be just slightly shorter than the other.  I threw a bunch of small pebbles into his boots for good measure.  It was insanely petty, but he’d been playing middle school with me this entire time so I figured it was fine retribution.  I may have also threwn all his pants into the mud outside of our tent, but no one can verify that.

We left for the southernmost camp at dawn.  And by we, I mean: me and two other scouts.  Amrita was still dealing with the bandits, so we had to be careful, and quiet, as we trekked through the Coast.  Unfortunately, we couldn’t even stick to the coastline during our journey.  Reports had come in days before, telling the most insane story I’d ever heard.  Apparently, there was a fucking giant-dragon showdown going on just north of the middle camp, known amongst us as Small Grove.  Some honest-to-god dragon was spewing electricity at some giant that was tossing rocks at it.  I felt a headache coming on just at the thought of it.  I mean, it would’ve been cool as hell to see it, but I needed some more time to accept the sheer existence of giants and dragons.  It was un-fucking-believable.

Now, one of the most popular side-stories told about Hawke was of his battle against this huge-ass dragon.  I thought it was utter bullshit the first time I’d heard, and, let me tell you, I’ve probably heard all variations of that fucking story.  It was a tavern favorite in all of Ferelden.

But, anyways, the first time I heard it was a few years ago.  I can’t remember exactly how long ago, but that doesn’t matter.  I was living in one of the more backwater villages when the story hit, and this guy (who was a pretty great story-teller, I gotta admit) was going all out in his version of it.  I figured it was just one of the many stories fabricated and/or exaggerated by Varric, and then further played up by other story-tellers, such as the guy in that particular bar.  I mean, how the hell could four people defeat a dragon the size of a fucking high-rise?  It didn’t sound even remotely possible.  Of course, it wasn’t looking so far-fetched now, what with a flipping dragon right down the coast from me. 

Some of the scouts were clamoring to get a chance to look at the fight, and I couldn’t blame them, even though I was pretty content to stay the hell away.  Anyways, I was betting on Amrita and co dealing with it, so I was certain that’d I would be hearing all about it sooner or later.

In any case, our trip across the Coast went pretty okay.  I was with this woman from Redcliffe, named Hana, and some older guy who wouldn’t tell us where he was from.  Literally all he said to us was to call him Tak.  I don’t know if that was the limit of his speech capabilities or what, because Tak didn’t say another damn thing for the rest of the trip, though he was pleasant enough in that stone-silent sort of way. 

Hana, on the other hand, was extremely chatty.  She kept on finding a way to bring up Redcliffe, and would ultimately start ragging on mages.  I learned (rather unwillingly) that she’d been forced from her home because of the overabundance of mages in the damn place.  She made it sound like mages personally went up to her and kicked her out of her own house, but I knew it was just her and her family’s fear of all things magic.  Of course, I couldn’t fault her.  If I’d been in Redcliffe when the Queen handed the place over to the rebel mages, I would have been out of there quicker than you could say ‘yikes’.  Anyways, it wasn’t that Hana was annoying; it was just that there was only so much Redcliffe talk that I could handle, you know?

I took my cue from Tak and didn’t talk much about myself.  I kind of liked how normal that kind of thing was in the scouts.  It was just socially accepted that if someone doesn’t open up to you, you don’t pry.  Simple as that.  Like, yeah, it helps with fostering comradery and shit like that, but there are others ways to get good with people.  The best ones being: drinking and sharing your stuff, especially when you’re in a rainy hellscape trying to lay low so bandits don’t cut your fucking head off.

Before she left to save us all like usual, Amrita gave me an actual goodie-bag of snacks.  There were bread rolls, some cheeses, and even a few pieces of fruit.  She said the kitchens at Haven were always over-supplying her for her trips to the ass-ends of Ferelden, so she was really just giving me what was deemed ‘too much’.  And, hey, I eagerly accepted the food, which meant that all I had to do was give some cheese and bread to my two travelling companions, and we were all best buddies.

After a few hours, we were at the south camp, which was actually more commonly referred to as Driftwood.  From there, I separated with Hana and Tak, though we made promises to eat dinner together (Tak gave two nods at the proposal, which seemed especially enthusiastic for him).  I had to report to Lieutenant Harding, the same dwarven woman from my first day at the northern camp, and she was apparently going to tell me what exactly I’d be doing here.

She recognized me on sight, and even gave me immediate attention, so I didn’t have to awkwardly approach her and wait for her to notice me.  I love it when that happens.  Saves me the trouble of opening my stupid mouth and saying something…stupid.

“Scout Neves, right?”

“Just Fitz, please.”

“Alright.  Well then, you arrived at just the right time.  Can you be ready to head out in a half hour?”

“Sure.” I shrugged at her.  “Where to?”

“I’m putting together a party to check out this cave way over there,” She replied, waving one hand in the general direction of somewhere behind her.  So, southeast of here. “It’s a bit of a hike, but not too bad.  We need more people with writing skills out there, and I heard from Jemmy that you were just the man for the job.”

“Aw, sweet.  Tell me, does that mean she actually likes me, ‘cuz half the time it seems like she wants to punch something.”  Like me.

Harding laughed.  “Oh yeah, you got some pretty high praise out of her, er…well, as much praise as she’s likely to ever give.”

I just nodded knowingly.  Jemmy was more likely to compliment this weather than an actual person. 

“Alright!  Be ready to head out in half an hour.  If you need to stock up, the Requisitions officer is just over there.”  With that, Harding walked away, probably in order to finalize some other things.  I wondered if that meant she’d also be going with us.

Since I didn’t need potions or anything like that, there was no need for me to go over to Requisitions.  Instead, I decided to take a look about camp.  It was a good thing I did, too, because I actually found a familiar face.

“Yo! Sawyer!”

Sawyer turned, his hands full with what looked like a tent.  He broke out into a grin at the sight of me, and even tried to wave.  
“Fitz!  Good to s–” He stumbled a bit, the massive tent almost slipping out of his hands.  I rushed over to help him out.

“Ah, lemme help you with this.  You setting it up here?”

“Yeah.  It’s for you, actually.  Camp’s pretty full up at the moment.  Soldiers have taken over the place…”  He went on to tell me about how dangerous it’s been, just like at the northern camp.  General scouts, like Sawyer and me, weren’t allowed outside of camp without a squadron of soldiers to protect them.  Once he’d said that, Sawyer began telling me all about how annoying the soldiers were as well.

I let him complain for a little while longer, but since I was on a time crunch I ended up having to interrupt him.

“Yo, tell me all this later.  Whatchu know about this cave Harding’s about to go to?”  
“Oh! Well, for one, I’ll be going.  There’s supposed to be a whole bunch of herbs inside that cave, so there’ll be a lot of us there on bundling duty.”

“Ah, you guys chart it already?  I thought maybe it hadn’t even been explored yet.”

“It has.  Sort of.  I’ll tell you on the way.”  He nodded over to where a group was forming on the edge of camp. “Looks like it’s time to go.”

We joined them, and not even a minute later, we were leaving, with Lieutenant Harding at the lead.  She totally wasn’t lying either, about the whole long trek thing.  It took a while, but it wasn’t any worse than the constant up-and-down hills I had to deal with earlier just to get to this damn campsite.

Sawyer told me all the details on the way, just like he promised.  Only a few people could go into the cave at a time, since apparently there was a pretty big rift lying deep within the place.  They’d sent a message to Amrita, but she probably wouldn’t be able to get to it for a while.  In the meantime, we were just going to carefully mine the place and record as much as we dared. 

I learned upon arrival, standing just outside the mouth of the cave, that there were literally only three of us who were able to write (and by that I mean, write _well_ ).  One of them included Harding herself, and I was a bit surprised to find that that was the only reason why she was accompanying this mission.  It seemed a bit beneath her, seeing as this was grunt work, but she didn’t seem to care an ounce.  I was glad she was in charge though.  She was really easy-going, especially for a Lieutenant.   

The job went quick.  We weren’t really given the chance to slack off either.  The presence of a huge, rippling rift a few yards away was enough to keep us working fast and focused, since no one really wanted to think about the fact that demons could spew forth at any second.  The fast we got our shit done, the faster we could get the hell out.  In the end, nothing happened.  Thankfully. 

The other recorder, or whatever, was too scared to go too deep into the cave, so I volunteered for the innermost section.  I didn’t really care, we weren’t going the whole length of the cave, and we weren’t scoping the section that actually held the rift, so I figured it’d be fine.  I mean, I still had to be on the lookout for any straggling demons, but that’s also what the soldiers were for.  And, man, did they like to gloat about it.  In that cave, scurrying around trying to write in dim lighting, I got firsthand experience at some grade-A soldier superiority complexes.  I also learned that Sawyer wasn’t exaggerating when he said the soldiers were annoying.

I was in charge of inventorying our finds, and just generally writing down everything I saw.  I included pictures when I could, but honestly there wasn’t much time (and it wasn’t exactly required, either).  But, man, those soldiers made it hard to concentrate. 

They carried their swords like they were god’s gift to poor, weak scouts everywhere.  I mean, they were doing their job, but they didn’t even try to hide their own feelings about their role in this mission.  They thought it was trivial, and that they could be doing better work elsewhere.  Like on the front-lines, doing battle or whatever.  Macho shit.

The other two scouts I was with, the ones bundling and whatnot, were able to ignore them just fine.  Me, on the other hand, I couldn’t stop myself from giving them dirty looks.  Eventually the soldiers noticed, too.

“You got a problem, scout?”

“Yeah, you runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth.  Shut the hell up, man.  We need your eyes and swords, not your fuckin’ talk.”

They gaped at me, and I clearly heard one of the scouts choke into their cowl as they rolled some prophet’s laurel into a cloth.  I don’t know if either soldier was going to retaliate, they didn’t get the chance.  Right after I’d told those bastards off, Harding appeared before us, giving us the signal to move out.  Then, I was too busy jotting some last minute things down onto paper to really pay the soldiers any mind. 

Of course, that didn’t mean I got away with it.  My new friends caught up to me once we were out of the cave, and a few minutes into our journey back to camp.  I was talking to Sawyer, telling him about what I’d done to Foster the night before, when one of the soldiers knocked into me. 

“You got a lot of nerve, mouthing off like that.  Bet you wouldn’t be so high and mighty if a demon came along and we weren’t there to kill it for you.”  This guy’s face was pretty well covered for protection reasons (from the elements as well as enemies), but I could tell that he was trying his hardest to convey an intimidating glare despite the physical obstructions.

Feeling Sawyer tense up next to me, as the two soldiers from earlier boxed us in on either side, I scoffed.

“Eh, nah.  Don’t worry, bro, I really am this arrogant.”

The two of them exchanged looks, like they hadn’t expected me to say that.  I almost laughed.

“You think you’re better than us?” The same soldier said, puffing himself up a bit in that stereotypical way that meant he was getting ready for a fight.

“Nah, man, we’re all equals here in the Inquisition.  Isn’t that what they’re advertising?” I inclined my head towards Sawyer, addressing the question to him.  He just looked at me, eyes begging me to shut up.

“I don’t like your tone.”  I swear, I thought he was gonna end that by calling me ‘scum’, like some clichéd ruffian.  I grinned at him, making sure he could see it despite the gear that, like his, also obscured most of my face.  I really needed to get rid of the dumb helmet, it felt like it was clinging to my face half the time.

“My tone?  I’m sorry, would you like more sarcasm? Or more–”  He didn’t let me finish.

We’d already been lagging a bit behind all the others, so no one saw when he hit me.  He was pretty smooth about it, too.  He turned around, like he was going to walk away from us, which caught me off guard.  But, he didn’t walk away.  Instead, he lifted his arm and brought his elbow back into my face.  I should mention that, not only were he and his buddy still crowded around me, but the soldier who hit me was also the same height as me. 

His elbow hit me in the perfect spot too.  I was knocked back, off my feet, and that must’ve satisfied them because they walked off after that.  Sawyer hauled me up almost immediately, and began tugging me forward so we wouldn’t attract attention.  I just continued cursing (which I had been doing since that bastard’s elbow caught me right in the eye).  I also had to remove my helmet, which got all skewed from the hit and was, at this point, even more unwelcome on my face thanks to the pounding pain in my eye.

“Please, can you do that a bit quieter?”

“Fuck off,” I spat, though I felt bad almost immediately after snapping at him.  I forced myself to calm down.

“Sorry,” I muttered, holding one gloved hand over my poor eye.  “That fucking asshole.  I’m gonna–”

“Not do anything, because you don’t want to get in trouble?” Sawyer interrupted, pointedly. 

I glared at him (or, tried to), even though I knew he was right.  I didn’t want to get kicked out of the scouts for being insubordinate or something.  I dunno if I mentioned this, but the Inquisition really frowned upon in-fighting and all that, especially among recruits.

“Whatever.  God, I hope something attacks us.  I wanna fuckin’ go.”

Sawyer just sighed, and probably rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond.  Instead, he directed the conversation to happier topics, as we finally caught up to the group once more.

And later on that night, when I passed a group of soldiers on my way to get some food, only to have laughter trail after me, I just gritted my teeth and kept moving.

 

~

  
I wasn’t in camp long enough to fully scout that cave.  I think I missed Amrita by, like, a day or two at most.  In all, I spent two full weeks at Driftwood, before I was rotated out for another group of scouts.  Me, along with some others, including Sawyer, were sent back to Haven for a short reprieve from constant travelling.  Scouting was some really intensive work.  It required a lot of on-the-go living and we had to basically survive off the barest of necessities for long periods of time, too.  So, the return to Haven was actually much needed.  I’d been away for just over a month, and as luck would have it, Amrita arrived back to Haven a few days after me.

I was sitting on a ledge near the front gates watching the soldiers train, when I saw Amrita’s party approach.  When she was close enough to see me properly, I waved madly to get her attention, which she returned just as enthusiastically.

I met her by the stables, and patiently waited for her to get her mount all put away and stuff.  She rushed to greet me as soon as the reins were in Dennet’s hands.

“Fitz! I didn’t think you would be back!”  She threw her arms around me, which I allowed, though I still wasn’t all that comfortable with the hugging stuff.

“Got back a few days ago.  You done with the Coast?”

She sighed, ending the hug and taking a step back, “I only wish.  That last rift was a – What happened to your eye?”

Frowning, I cursed internally.  I’d actually forgotten all about it.  Granted, it was nearly all healed since it’s been some time since the elbowing incident, but you could clearly tell that a pretty decent black eye once graced this face.  It probably would’ve been gone sooner, if I’d had ice of some sort.  Sawyer had urged me to just use a bit of healer’s salve, but I knew quite well that nothing procured via magic would do anything.  No sense wasting it.

“I pissed someone off, what d’ya think happened?  Wanna go get drinks?”

She folded her arms and didn’t move.  Varric joined her side, having handed over his horse as well.  I noticed that also a part of Amrita’s party were the Iron Bull and Cassandra.

Varric whistled when he got a good look at me.  “Damn, kid, that must’ve been some shiner.  You scouts getting rowdy, or what?”

I forced a laugh.  “Yup.  Totally not a big deal, either.  So you can quit with the mothering, _Amrita_.”

She let it drop, making a big show of sighing and shaking her head.  “It just looks like it hurt.”

“Oh, it did.  Like a motherfucker, too.” Amrita elbowed me, since I happened to say that as some Chantry sisters passed us.  They threw me some scandalized looks, and I waved.  “Oops.  Oh, well. So, drinks?”

“It’s midday.”

“I know, right? We better hurry before there’s no tables left.”  I nudged her with my shoulder. “Sera will be there.”

Flushing a little, Amrita finally conceded.  She said a quick goodbye to Cassandra, who was probably heading to the Chantry for more business-things.  The Iron Bull, however, readily joined us.

“Someone say drinks? I’m in.”  He was grinning, and there was a note of laughter in his voice that made him almost immediately likeable.  Amrita didn’t miss the look he threw her, because next thing I know there were introductions.

“Bull, meet Fitz.  He’s a s–”

“A scout.  I remember you.  You helped us fight off those Venatori.”

I bobbed my head, “Yeah, fun times.  I’ve been hangin’ with some of your Chargers these past few days.  Cool guys.”

He grinned down at me, before saying, “Damn right they are.”

“We going to stand around all day,” Varric interjected.  “Because, I for one, need a drink _now_.”  He started to walk off, muttering something about mountains and nature, or something like that.

We followed him, and in no time at all, we had one big table claimed just for us.  Sera got drunk first, probably would’ve passed out too if Amrita hadn’t started taking her drinks away from her. 

The Iron Bull, or ‘Bull’, was just as cool as his Chargers.  He was funny and loud, and my first impression of him was that he was really friendly.  It was so weird; a sharp contrast from the stoic Qunari guards I remember seeing in Kirkwall.  I still didn’t know about his more spy-like qualities, so I didn’t even think twice about lying to him.

He asked me about the Coast, and if it was true I had gotten lost there for a few weeks.  I glared at Amrita, who giggled at me.  Hell, I was more nervous about Varric hearing this.  I had no idea Bull could probably suss out a lie better than most people around here could repeat the Chant of Light.

“Yeah,” I began, drawing out the word as I thought of what to say.  “Was just about two weeks, I guess.  Aw, man, my map was so bad.  I thought I’d never see sunshine again.”  I ended with a slightly awkward laugh, though it helped that Amrita joined in.  I watched Varric from the corner of my eye, but all he did was shake his head.

“You sure it was even a map you were looking at?” Bull drawled, leaning back in his chair and watching me with his one, non-patched, eye.  I widened my eyes at him like he’d just made a brilliant point.

“Oh my god, you might be right.  I could’ve totally just been looking at a picture of some fucking squiggly lines!”

“Might have,” Amrita joined in, laughing.  “Fitz, that map was more smudged ink than it was readable.  Where did you even buy it?”

“I found it in a barrel.  It was free.” 

“Blah blah blah, so Dummy can’t tell his ass from a friggin’ mountain!  Who cares,”  Sera jeered, leaning around Amrita to look at me. “Betcha can’t down that in one go.”  She nodded at my mug, which was over half-full. 

I was about to take that bet, when the tavern doors flew open and Sawyer practically fell through.  He looked all around the room, before his eyes landed on me.  I was about to call out to him, but he was already rushing towards me. 

“Fitz! Foster’s just got back, and he knows it was you!” He wheezed, bent over a little bit with his hands on his knees.  He opened his mouth to say more, but he didn’t end up saying anything.  He just stood there, gaping.

Realizing he was staring at Amrita, the holy Herald of whatever, I rolled my eyes.  I still proceeded to shoot up from the table anyways.

“Quick! We gotta go!”  I had to nudge Sawyer a few times before he started moving, but then we were off.  Waving at the slightly confused table, I called out a quick goodbye.  All I got back was a slurred, “You wuss!” from Sera, accompanied by some inappropriate hand gestures as well.

Maybe it was out of location, but I immediately headed for the healers’ area.  I stopped running and crouched beside the stone wall that lay next to Solas’ cabin and the staircase leading up to the little area.  Sawyer joined me.

“Is he mad?”

“Not until he heard you were here.”

I made a face.  “Someone talkin’ ‘bout me?”

Sawyer shrugged, not seeming very interested.  He was, however, very interested in what he’d seen just moments ago.

“Were you hanging out with the _Herald_?”  He made it sound like a huge deal; his voice all in awe and everything. 

“Ugh, yeah.  We were friends before she became the ‘Herald’.”  I used my fingers to put that title into quotations.  It was so silly, Amrita didn’t even like being called the Herald.  Hell, she wasn’t even Andrastian.

“Really?  Why did you never mention that!”

I shrugged.  “Not a big deal.”

He just looked at me like, ‘yeah, it _is_ a big deal’, but I ignored it.  I decided to redirect the conversation to more pressing matters.

“Yo, I got an idea,” I began, nudging his shoulder.  “You go tell Foster someone already decked me, yeah?  Make it sound all humiliating and painful and shit.  That’ll cool him down real quick.”

At first, Sawyer leveled me with a look that clearly said, ‘are you serious?’, but then his face adopted a more thoughtful expression.

“You know, that might just work.”

I nodded, eagerly.  “I know, right?”

Sawyer accepted, on the condition that I owed him one.  Fair is fair.

I watched him trot off down the steps we’d just sprinted up.  I jumped when I heard a small cough from behind.

Spinning around, I saw that it was only Solas.

“Oh!  Hey!  How’s it goin’?”  I asked, grinning up at him.

He stared at me, somewhat sternly, before saying, “Someone hit you?”

I gaped at him. “What? No, that was just a lie…a lie to keep someone from actually, potentially, hitting me.”

Solas didn’t look convinced.  I decided I’d better stand up, rather than remaining crouched down next a wall, looking like some hiding street urchin up to no good.

Brushing off my pants, I tried again, “I already told you, I got my black eye on the job.  You know, dangerous scouting-business things.”

He pursed his lips, still unimpressed, and I felt distinctly like I was about to get grounded for lying.  I shrugged it off though.

“Fine.  Don’t believe me.  Even though it’s completely, one hundred percent true.”  Staring back at him, with my arms crossed, I probably looked insolent as hell, but whatever.

“Hmm.” Was all the elf said back to me.  He turned to go back into his cabin, but, something hit me, and I rushed to follow him.

“Wait! Solas!” I almost ran into his back as he stopped abruptly, one hand on the open door to his cabin.  He raised one eyebrow at me, obviously telling me to go on.

“Can I still ask you those questions?  Fade questions?” I asked, a bit pleadingly.  I hurried to add, “If you have time?”

I thought he was going to say no; he took forever to answer me, preferring to just stare me down silently.  It was probably only a few seconds, but it was long enough to make me nervous.

“Of course you may.  Come in,” was his eventual, and simple, response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man, happy 2016 you guys!  
> thanks for reading, commenting, and everything! ^_^


	34. Act II: Words, and Lack Thereof

I think I just stood there for a few seconds, a bit stunned, as he walked right into his cabin without so much as looking back at me.  Feeling relieved nonetheless, I followed him in and lightly kicked the door shut behind me.  Solas’ cabin was actually a lot like the one I shared with Varric; complete with a cluttered desk of papers, though I suspected they weren’t fanmail like a majority of Varric’s were.  Other than that, it was simple living and tight quarters. 

Solas offered me the only chair in the room before leaning against the wall with his hands clasped behind his back.  He looked to me, politely waiting for me to speak.  When my hesitation went on for far too long, he finally said, “You may feel free to ask me anything, and I will answer.  If I am able.”

“Uh, yeah…” I trailed off, still shifting feet near the doorway. “Sorry, I’m trying to gather my thoughts.  I wasn’t plannin’ on askin’ you that.  Heh, impulsive.”  I laughed awkwardly while Solas just blinked at me.  He seemed so composed and non-judgmental, even though I felt like a right idiot for being unable to string together a few thoughts.  Especially when it was my dumb idea to talk with him in the first place.  At least he wasn’t looking annoyed.

Conscious of my fidgeting, I moved further into the room instead of just hanging around the doorway like a loser.  I shook my head when Solas offered me the chair once more; words were on the tip of my tongue and I had nearly composed a semi-decent sentence when he spoke again.

“Shall we begin with what you already know about the Fade?  From there, I can help guide you to the questions you wish to ask.”

Okay, good idea.  Nodding, I began to regurgitate some of the stuff I’d already read.

“The Fade is a metaphysical realm that is tied to all of Thedas.  People can only access it through dreaming,” I paused to think, before absently adding on, “Except dwarves can’t dream.  At all.  So, they aren’t connected to the Fade?”

“That would be correct.  Children of the Stone are born with a natural resistance to magic.  As a result, they can neither perform nor be touched by magic.”

“Magic can’t touch them?” I asked, practically snapping my neck in Solas’ direction at this news.  “But, Varric–”

“Was born on the surface of Thedas.  Even dwarves born in Orzammar may lose their resistance to magic over time, should they choose to live above ground.  However, their inability to perform magic is permanent, regardless of their place of origin.”

“Weird.”  I muttered, thinking back to the new tingling sensation I felt whenever a spell would come close to hitting me.  The spell still broke, of course, but the feeling…

“And, only dwarves are immune to magic?”  I asked, trying to sound as confused as possible.

“As far as we know,”  Solas said, a bit too quietly.  When I looked at him, he wasn’t looking at me but at the ceiling.  With his hands behind his back, he looked the exact image of some guy with his head lost in the clouds.  Man, I don’t want to seem immature, but I couldn’t help but think about how shiny his head was.  I had to struggle to keep a straight face so he wouldn’t think I was rude as fuck.

When he finally looked back at me, it felt like he knew (not about my thoughts on his baldness, but about other things…you know, _magicky_ things).  That could’ve just been my penchant for paranoia, though.  Wouldn’t be the first time.  I mean, how the hell could he know anything?  If he had, surely he would’ve said something by now.  I was pretty sure he would’ve been majorly fascinated by my imperviousness to magic; a fascination that he wouldn’t just show by throwing out cryptic, slightly enigmatic sentences at me.  If he knew, he totally would’ve bombarded me by now, right?  God, I had to stop with the paranoia bullshit.

In any case, I changed gears.  “Okay, so, like, goin’ back to the Fade.  You could say it’s like another world, right?”

“Another world?  In a way, I suppose.  It is more like the immaterial realm to our physical existence in Thedas, separated only by the Veil, which is a largely metaphorical term.  The Fade connects us to new realities not found in our concrete surroundings, so long as the dreamer is imaginative.”

“Oh!”  I exclaimed, stuck on one part of his small spiel.  “What you said before that – the, uh – the Veil!  What exactly is that?”

Solas was patient and calm as he explained; not once looking judgmental, or like he thought my questions were dumb or anything.  It eased me into the conversation, if only by a little.

“The Veil requires a rougher description.  You are aware that the rifts caused by the Breach are tears in the Veil, yes?”  He paused long enough for me to give a nod, and then continued.  “The Veil exists to repel the Fade; to keep it within its own realm of being, rather than mixed with the physical world we live in.  However, there are weak spots, such as our tears and rifts, that form in places that have experienced an overabundance of magic or death.  When the weak spots turn to rifts, spirits are then pulled, forcibly, from the Fade and they become corrupted from the shock of it.”

I chewed my lip, thinking it all over.  I almost wished I thought to bring a pen and paper, just because I didn’t exactly trust myself to remember everything he was saying.  One thing that stuck out to me was the implication that tears weren’t some brand new phenomena. 

“There have been tears before the Breach?”

“Oh, yes.  Of course, they were not nearly as common and wide-spread as our current situation, but tears did in fact happen from time to time.  Though, like I said, for a tear to form a place must have seen an enormous amount of death, or magic, for spirits to become attracted to the area and, hence, the Veil weakens from the continual pressing of spirits against it.”

His explanation brought back to mind my own arrival into Thedas; in that dank sewage passageway, surrounded by a bunch of blood mages.  So, Marcella must have broken the Veil in order to just get me here, but that didn’t exactly explain how I passed through the Fade.  I assumed that, in order to even get through the Veil, I would have had to pass through the Fade first.  Just thinking about it made my head hurt.  It was all just so…weird.  Kinda beyond my mental capabilities, too.  I knew I had to bite the bullet, and just ask about what’s _outside_ the Fade.  It's just, no one ever really talked about stuff like that, and I’ve eavesdropped on a fair bit of conversations throughout my life here.  I wasn’t even sure if ‘aliens’ were in these people's vocabulary. 

“So, like, what about other realms…other worlds outside of Thedas, and the Fade, or whatever?”

Solas looked like he was about to answer, but then he paused, staring at me once more.  “What do you mean?”

Flushing, I hurried to elaborate, “Like, could the Fade take you to another world?  One that is not Thedas or whatever?”

I tried not to fidget, or shake, as I asked my question.  To say the words out loud were so weird.  I never once asked something so closely tied to my situation.  I never even mentioned any sort of ‘other world’ business to anyone before.  Despite the fact that I knew damn well people wouldn’t automatically connect the dots and accuse me of being an alien (it’s too fucking insane), the nagging worry that I’d be found out persisted.  All tensed up, I waited for Solas’ answer.

“I am afraid I cannot give you a complete answer to that.  There are theories, but… there is still much to be learned, and explored, of the Fade.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I tried not to live up to Sera’s namecalling and wuss out of my chance at asking questions.  I was getting close though.  I felt there was no other way but to bluntly ask about the potential existence of aliens.

“Theories such as…?”

“That discussion would require more time than I have at the moment.  Perhaps we could resume some other day?”  Solas was looking at me quite intently now, and I knew I had to retreat.  I totally was a wuss.

“Ah, yeah, sure…um, thanks.  I appreciate you, like, talkin’ to me and all that.”  I told him, sincerely, only cringing slightly at my awkward phrasing.  I belatedly added on a quick ‘a lot’ to my thanks, just so he knew I really was grateful.

“I welcome your curiosity, Fitz.”

I thought that was going to be it.  I had already turned a bit, about to say goodbye and get the hell out of that suffocating cabin, but his voice stopped me.

“If I may ask… What brought these ideas to your mind?  Do you normally think of different worlds?”

He wore a slight smile, which served to lighten his tone considerably.  In turn, I laughed awkwardly, and, oh my god, it was so fucking obvious that it was awkward.  I probably did one of those ‘shifty-eye’ things as well.  I _really_ needed to learn how to talk to people.  The periods of self-imposed solitude that checkered my past were very clearly showing.

“Heh, well, could you really blame me?  Like shit, this world kinda sucks right now, ya know?”

Solas raised an eyebrow.  “Eloquently put, though I suppose I can see what you mean, even if you did not really answer my question.”

Wow.  Call out.  I waved one hand in the air, trying to convey loftiness via hand waving and making (most likely weird) faces.

“Fine, fine.  Nah, man, I don’t normally go around thinkin’ ‘bout other worlds.  It’s just…”  I was pretty much grasping at straws, trying to find some good back up reasoning for my words.  I mean, reflectively speaking, I know now that it wasn’t all that big of a deal.  I could’ve just hauled ass out of there and Solas probably would’ve just thought I was weird, if he didn’t already.  But, after sharing more than I have in _years_ , just by saying the words ‘different world’ out loud, I was feeling mega nervous.  My fight-or-flight instincts were going haywire, and effectively clouding my mind.  I so didn’t do well under pressure, at least not when talking was involved.

“It’s just, that big hole in the sky, ya know!  And, Amrita!  She walked in the Fade, right?  That’s what everyone says.  So, it’s like…if that’s possible, what else is?  Ya get me?”

I grinned in Solas’ direction, feeling a bit proud of my fairly coherent, non-quite rambling.  His stare was just as heavy as before, though maybe less intense and more thoughtful looking.  I was beginning to suspect (or maybe it was hope) that Solas was just an intense guy all around.

“I see.  That is…a good outlook to take.  It would be interesting to ponder the possibility of other worlds, outside of our own.”

I nodded, still feeling a bit unsure with how that conversation went.  “Yeah…totally.  Well, I gotta go and you’re probably, like, really busy, so…see ya ‘round, I guess.”

“Farewell.”  He smiled lightly, in a way that made me feel like he was sort of laughing at me.  I tried not to leave like I was fleeing or anything, but I’m not really sure I succeeded.

~

That evening found me sitting once again on top of the ledge just outside Haven’s gates.  Only, this time I had Amrita sitting beside me.

I’d found her again, sobered from our bout of day drinking, right after my awkward visit with Solas.  It was then that we finally began to truly catch up after so many weeks apart.  She told me everything, sparing no details; about the missions she’d been on, the people she’d met, and all the responsibilities being laid on her shoulders.  I blanched a bit when she finally got around to telling me about Bull.  She explained it all, too: the Ben-Hassrath whatever.  I’d never really gotten a good picture of what the Qunari were all about; just that they followed some pretty strict rules and didn’t really like talking to other people (but that was obviously my Kirkwall bias coming into play).  When Amrita told me Bull was essentially a Qunari spy, I couldn’t hold in a groan and my seemingly dramatic response made Amrita laugh at me.  She probably thought my reaction was just based on my last experience with the Inquisition’s own spymaster, because Amrita made sure to let me know that Bull was very friendly and not at all intimidating once you got to know him.  I could only nod, faintly, and make a mental note to avoid Bull as much as possible while cursing the very name of espionage.

After that, I listened intently as Amrita told me more about her other companions.  Apparently, Madame de Fer was incredibly skilled (Amrita greatly admired her fighting style), but also incredibly frightening.  There was also another addition to the crew; some Grey Warden or whatever had joined up a little bit before Amrita ventured to the Storm Coast to meet with Bull.  Amrita seemed to like him, but she sort of liked _everyone_ , so I couldn’t really form an opinion on either of the two new members.  Unfortunately, we didn’t gossip all that much about Amrita’s travelling companions after the initial ‘so, these are my new friends and they’re names are so-and-so’, though I wish we could’ve.  Conversation quickly gave way to the biggest problem at hand; finding a way to seal the Breach.  The advisors were expecting Amrita to choose a side, in order to seal the Breach once and for all.  Mage or Templar.  It was all very, ‘neither can live while the other survives’, which sounded like a bunch of piss baby talk to me.  Personally, I thought the mages and Templars should’ve gotten over their shit, if only to help save the fucking world from fucking dying.  And, from what Amrita told me, if she chose one side, she’d lose any and all chance at working with the other. 

I was content with just letting her complain and everything (it’s healthy to bitch once in a while, and god knows Amrita needed it), but then she decided to ask for my fucking advice.

Predictably, her words made me stare at her like she’d finally lost it.

“Huh?”

“I asked what you thought.  Which side do _you_ think would be our best allies?  Our best option for sealing that blighted hole in the sky.”

She said all of that while staring off into the distance, right at the giant hole she’d just mentioned.  I looked at it, too, and then it happened again. 

Like on the beach all those weeks ago, I felt myself blank out.  After who knows how long, I was partially brought back by the feel of Amrita’s palm on my face.  She was peering at me, with an expression of worry on her already weary face. 

“Fitz? Fitz, can you hear me?”

It took effort to blink, but once I managed it, it was like I came back into myself all at once.  The pit of my stomach was all tied up, but not from anxiety.  I can’t explain it; it was just a weird sensation that made me feel slightly strung out, like I was over-caffeinated or something.  On, like, ten expressos plus a nice helping of Redbull.  I might be exaggerating, but you get my point.

“Sorry…”  I stared at the Breach again, feeling confused.  I had blanked out, very briefly, on the trip back from the Coast to the Frostbacks.  It happened so quick, no one even noticed.  _I_ probably wouldn’t have noticed (would have forgotten about it too), if I hadn’t remembered exactly how weird I’d felt afterwards.  Exactly as I felt right then, on that ledge overlooking an iced over lake and a green-streaked sky.

“Do you feel ill?” Amrita was asking me, only sounding more concerned.  “Fitz, it took you a while to even respond to me.  I was about to get a healer.”

“I’m fine.  I just…”  I tried to meet her eyes, to reassure her that I really was fine, but the closest I could myself to look at was some point just left of forehead.  “I guess I don’t feel too good.  Maybe I’m tired.  I dunno.”

Amrita took hold of my arm, “Let’s get you to a healer, then.”

“No.  No, I’ll be good.  Let’s just sit.”  I pushed her hand away, gently, and smiled at her.

“If you get sick…” Amrita grumbled, though she did settle back down.

It was silent between us for a few minutes.  I didn’t blank out again, and I could clearly feel Amrita looking for the signs.  The sun was setting, and we watched it go down.

“You never answered my question.”

I looked at her with my eyebrows raised slightly and wearing a light grin on my face.  “Mages or Templars, you mean?”  I didn’t bother holding in a snort as I thought about the two groups, and the fact that I was the absolute worst person to be asked this question.

“Fuckin’ hell if I know.  Wish you didn’t need either of ‘em.”

Amrita sat up straighter in order to stare at me, incredulously.

“Seriously?  That’s your help?”

I shrugged.  “Hey, I don’t get all this politicking bullshit.  I literally have no help to give.”

She looked ready to argue with me, maybe even reprimand me for my indifference, but I cut her off before she could get a word out.

“All I can say is that I’ll back you on whatever you choose.  You’ll make the right choice.”  I grinned slyly and added, “Besides, you’re the ‘chosen one’, oh holy Herald of Andraste.  That shit’s gotta count for something, yeah?”

Amrita snorted, and lazily smacked my shoulder.  “Ha. Ha.”

Only when it was dark and high time to retreat to the warmth of a nice fire did we speak again.  Standing in front of my cabin, I went to say good night and Amrita went to say something entirely different.

“Before you go, I want to say that I really needed to hear that, Fitz.  I just hope I don’t betray your expectations of me.”

“Ah, fuck me.  Fuck expectations.” I said back, while she rolled her eyes at my language.  “No, seriously, don’t care about what others are thinkin’ ‘bout you.  They don’t get what you’re goin’ through, only you do.  So, go with what you believe, alright?  Even if that means bringing a legion of bloody mages here.  What really matters is that you’re tryin’ your fuckin’ best in a shit situation.  No one can give you shit over that, ‘specially since they probably couldn’t even handle _five_ _minutes_ in your shoes.”

That was a lot for me to say all at once, when you consider the fact that all of it was serious-talk.  Not a joke or jibe in sight.  Being all serious and deep made me feel uncomfortable, but Amrita probably needed to hear that.  Or, at least, I think she did.  In any case, I pretended not to notice the way her eyes got all watery at my words, and I accepted the hug she gave me without complaint.  I even tried to hug back.

“Thanks,”  She whispered, before she finally let go and stumbled off to her own cabin.  I watched her go and felt inextricably sad.  She had the fate of Thedas lying on her shoulders, and all these people yelling at her; wanting her to be things that she wasn’t.  It wasn’t fair.

I stood outside of my cabin for a while, thinking about Amrita and all this super elite Inquisition shit.  All I knew for sure was that if my resolve to stick with Amrita wasn’t stone solid before that moment of vulnerability she shared with me, it was after.  I just hoped I could be of actual help.  For once in my life.

~

A few days after my rather heartfelt talk with Amrita, more sappy shit happened.

My day had been going good, it really had.  I’d spent most of it helping the healers with mundane work, even had lunch with some of the Chargers before resuming work in the later afternoon.  I’d only gone back to my cabin once the day was nearly done, to get clean and all that.  Varric caught me right after I’d swapped tunics. 

He entered the cabin with a big gust of wind that kicked a smattering of snow into our otherwise neat living area.  He cursed, arms full with a rather full bag, and kicked the door shut.  I watched him from atop my cot, as he stumbled over to his desk and unceremoniously dumped the entire bag onto the poor thing.  Some of its contents spilled out, and my eyes followed a piece of paper, which looked distinctly like a letter, fall to the floor.

Varric picked it up and slapped it back on the table, simultaneously sitting himself down on the chair with a weary sigh.

“Mail day.  Kills me every time.”

Fidgeting a bit, I tried to laugh.  “I never realized you had so many fans.”

“Oh, they’re not all fans,” He said, carelessly, beginning to sort through it all.  I didn’t let it show, but my heart squeezed, even as he went on, “Half will most likely be hate.  Throw in some whining contractors, and maybe even some threatening letters that will most likely be unsigned.”

When nothing happened in the next few minutes, I thought I was in the clear.  I relaxed and everything.  I even laid down, thinking about just going to sleep, even though it was still kind of early.  However, still rifling through the sack, Varric spoke up again. 

“Well, look here.  Can’t say I’m surprised, but here’s a letter for you, kid.”

I froze in the act of putting my arms behind my head, slowly turning to look at the proffered letter with dread.

“Really?”  My voice totally croaked, and I cringed.  I forced myself to sit up, my movements all wooden and my mind a bit fuzzy.  I took the letter held out to me.

I stared at it for a few moments, steeling myself up so that I could actually open it.  When I finally did, I knew immediately that it was not from who I had been expecting.  Nearly ten pages of small, messy script greeted me.  I almost gaped.

Flipping over to the very last page, my eyes scoped out the sender’s name. 

“Varric… you didn’t…”

The letter was from none other than Merrill.

I felt a myriad of emotions.  Relief being predominant, and closely followed by guilt, apprehension, and even some joy.

I won’t include the whole letter, only the most important bits.  That’s not to say that there were unimportant bits in Merrill’s letter, it’s just… some of it was rambling, and while it was enjoyable to read, it was mostly making up for seven years of radio silence.

The letter went like this:

_Dear Fitz,_

_First of all: What were you thinking?_

_Do you know how worried we have all been?  Even Fenris helped look for you once we realized you were gone!  We thought someone took you! Or worse!_  
_If I am to be completely honest with you, I believed you to be dead.  What else was I to think when you never once tried to contact any of us?  I am very relieved to hear that you are still quite alive, even though I am terribly angry with you for leaving like you did._

_I am sure Varric told you about how heartbroken Hawke was after you disappeared.  You could have at least written so he (and the rest of us!) would have known you were not dead!  I would very much like to know why you left, as well._

_Now, with all that finally said; I’ve missed you so much!  You wouldn’t believe how different the alienage is now.  I don’t know if Varric told you, but I took over for Hahren Reeba after the rebellion.  It’s a lot of work, but there are so many who need help here.  I am glad to be a part of rebuilding and making it a better place for other elves, even if it is a hard task to undergo._

There were many pages after that, detailing various aspects of Merrill’s daily life, as well as snippets of memories from the last couple years.  She ended the letter in typical Merrill-fashion,

_Isabela is here with me, as I write this.  She says to tell you that she is happy to hear you are not dead and wishes you well._

_There is so much more to tell, but not nearly enough paper!  Please send a letter back with Varric, I would love to hear from you!  And hear about your travels in your own words!  How do you like Ferelden?  Have you met any Dalish?  Are you eating enough?  You have to tell me all about it!_

_Love,_

_Merrill_

In significantly wider lettering was a post script that read:

_You’re a right little shit, you know that?  I’m kicking your ass next time I see you._

Underneath that lovely note were a couple of ‘xo’s and what could only be Isabela’s signature. 

~

I think I was a bit in shock.  I’d been so prepared to hear from Hawke, I didn’t really stop to think that Varric might’ve told the other’s about me.  My only was relief was that Aveline was probably way too busy to write, even though I still felt nervous just thinking about what she’d have to say to me.  I really, _really_ didn’t need any more reminders about how I broke Hawke’s heart.

I fell back onto my cot, only just realizing that I’d been standing there the entire time, like an idiot who never got a fuckin’ letter before. 

“Shit.”

Varric just hummed at me, not breaking his stride in efficiently attacking his pile of envelopes.  Even though he seemed quite intent on his work, it didn’t stop him from making an idle comment.

“I’m sure Daisy had a lot to say,”  He side-eyed the mass of papers in my hands, and added, “Actually, it’s quite obvious she did.”

“You gonna write back, kid?”

“Well, it’s not like I really have a choice now, do I?”  I huffed, feeling very under attack and overwhelmed.  How do I write a letter?  When was the last time I even wrote a letter to someone?  It definitely didn’t help that before coming to Thedas, I still couldn’t even compose an e-mail without sounding idiotic!  Shit.

Varric tsked.  “You always have a choice.  You had a choice when you decided not to write Hawke.”

I stiffened, and slowly looked up.  I kept my face carefully blank, but Varric wasn’t even really looking at me.  His attention seemed to be focused solely on his letters, though I knew he was just really good at acting.  There was no way he didn’t notice how I’d completely frozen at his words.

At first, I was just going to ignore his words.  Better not to continue that line of conversation, right?  But, when it occurred to me that I didn’t have a letter from _him_ in my hands, I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“Varric?”  He tilted his head in my direction, an obvious sign for me to go on, so I did. 

“Did you…did Hawke write back?”

This time Varric paused, quill held frozen above paper for a moment before it was slowly returned to its inkpot.  I sat there, watching his movements and waiting for him to speak, but the silence stretched on into what felt like minutes, even though that was really only because of my own impatience combined with nervousness.  I opened my mouth to ask again, nerves practically fried at this point, but Varric cut me off, though it was with a heaved sigh rather than actual words.  Oh, words did follow, but they also made me wish I hadn’t even asked.

“Yeah, Scholar, Hawke got back to me a few days ago.”  Varric rubbed at his temples and leaned back in his chair, still not looking at me. 

When he didn’t continue, I forced myself to talk.

“Uh, well…what’d he say?”

I’m not going to lie.  I fully expected to get a letter, much like Merrill’s only in Hawke’s own untidy scrawl.  And with more anger.  For weeks now, I’d thought long and hard about what Hawke’s reaction was going to be like, and I steeled myself for everything.  I even, idly, thought about not receiving a letter from him.  But that was just wishful thinking; the part of me that wanted to avoid any and all confrontation, hoping for a nice nothing.  I just didn’t actually believe Hawke wouldn’t write anything.  So, I felt kind of lost as I asked Varric what the hell Hawke had to say about my reappearance.

Varric turned to me with a tired look on his face, even though he had both eyebrows raised at me, which honestly seemed to be the default expression on most people’s faces when tasked with talking to me.

“I thought you didn’t care.”

Feeling a bit indignant, I replied, “I never said that!”

“Well, you did say, and I’m paraphrasing here, ‘I fucked it up and it can’t be fixed, so leave it alone'.  And then you proceeded to completely refuse all opportunities to contact Hawke.  That sounds a lot like not caring to me, Scholar.”

It wasn’t.  I wanted to explain why but the words left me as my head got fuzzy, a lot like what happened when I was with Amrita just a few days ago.  It must’ve only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough that Varric had stood up and was already looking worried.

“Scholar, what was that?”

“Nothin’.  It was nothing.  I just couldn’t find the words to explain…I do care.  When I said all that,”  I flinched, recalling the way I’d stormed out of the cabin after firing off those overdramatic words about what a fuck up I was. 

“I just meant…it’s better if I leave Hawke be, okay?”

Varric didn’t look quite ready to let go of my weird blank out moment, but thankfully he did. 

“How in the world could that ever make sense,”  Varric shook his head, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity coming from my mouth.  “Scholar, Hawke would come right here, to Haven, if you asked him too.  Shit, it wouldn’t even matter what he was doing, he’d drop everything to be by your side.  If you’d only talk to him.”

“You really think that?” I shook myself out of a moment of weakness, as my heart clenched at the thought of Hawke forgiving me.  I cut those thoughts out quickly; they weren’t healthy, and it would only hurt to think about something that wasn’t going to happen if I had my way. 

“No – I mean, it doesn’t matter.  I don’t want him to do that.  He needs to move on.”

“Maker’s bloody balls, kid.  You ever gonna tell me why?”

“I’m a deadend…”

“ _What_?”

Fuck.  I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. How melodramatic of me.  I was busy thinking about not only my past regrets, and fuckups, but my new blanking spells as well.  I was overall just so fucked.  Were my blanking spells this world’s way of letting me know that I’d expired; overstayed my welcome?  My mind was going to dark places as I tried to think about what the hell was happening; places that were fucking with my mind.  The spells made me think something was going on mentally, and, shit, I really didn’t need to worry more about my mental state.  I already had enough problems going on.

“Sorry, I meant… I’m not good for him,”  My voice came out too low at the end, but I didn’t repeat myself.  Instead, I reiterated what I’d said only moments ago, “He needs to move on.”

Varric was quiet for a while after that, probably overthinking my weird behavior.

“So, that’s what all this is about?  You’re staying away for his own good.  Oh, Scholar, I can just imagine the yelling when he finds this out.”

“Do NOT tell him that!  It’s not true.  I don’t…. I don’t want…I _can’t_ be there for him.  Not ever.”  
I was trying to say, ‘I don’t want him’, but for the life of me, I couldn’t get the fucking words out.  God, if only I were more heartless.  About anyone else, I could probably talk shit like that, but not Hawke.  It was so screwed, but I _did_ want him. 

“Aw, fuck, Varric.  Why you always gotta make everything so deep.” I laughed, and it rang false and empty in the quiet room.  I let it trail off, my heart wasn’t in it anyways.

“You’re the one who made it deep that time, not me.  Although, I gotta give it to you.  That ‘not ever’ bit wasn’t half bad.  I bet that line would be just at home in a nice romantic tragedy.”

“Well, you’re welcome to steal it.  Just don’t give me any credit.”

Varric didn’t respond and we were silent for a few minutes.  I realized, once we weren’t talking anymore, that Varric had never answered my question; about what Hawke had said.  I was too burnt out to ask again, although, maybe the truth was that I didn’t want to know the answer anymore.

However, Varric did answer eventually.  It’s just, he waited until I’d decided to curl up in bed, with my blanket drawn up over half my face and my eyelids drooping.

“All he wrote was, ‘Good for him,’…” Varric hesitated, while my mind immediately went crazy.  Those three words contained so much anger.  I mean, come on, Varric tells the guy I spent the last seven years travelling throughout Ferelden and all Hawke has to say, is ‘good for him’.  Wow, I knew there’d be a lot of anger, but…I hadn’t thought it’d be so cold.

“And then, he just thanked me for telling him.”  Varric sounded so tired, and sad.  The unspoken, 'and that's all he said', hit me like a fucking truck.  By the looks of it, Hawke didn't have anything else to say to me.

“You can still write him.”  I could tell that Varric was probably going to completely disregard my rather self-deprecating explanation from earlier.  He was obviously still all for my reconciling with Hawke and his words sat in my head as my mind continued to churn. 

So, he wants me to contact Hawke; at least clear things up between us.  But, then what about all the shit I’d just said?  All that crap about not letting myself back in Hawke’s life… I meant all of it.  I couldn't just weasel myself back into Hawke's good books; not while I was still planning on trying to find a way to eventually leave this planet, and effectively Hawke himself.  It wouldn’t be fair, it’d just be cruel.  How could I try to become close to him again, when I knew I didn’t belong here, and when I didn’t even plan on staying forever?  It was bad enough the first time… I don’t think I’d have the heart to leave him a second time.  And, then where would that leave my old life?  I mean, I know it’s already been so long.  But, I grew up in that world; it was still very much my home even though it's been nearly a decade.  My dad could be all alone this very minute, or maybe even still looking for me, or at least hoping I'd return.  Even though I couldn’t remember his face or what his voice sounded like, I still remembered how close we were.  We fought, like all families, but it was just us back there, and we were closer than hell because of it.  I didn’t like imagining him all alone, or worrying about me, which is why I tended to push down memories of the past more often than not. The thought of my dad in general, when I actually allowed myself to think about such things, hurt in ways I couldn’t even describe. 

It hurt enough knowing I’d failed to find a way home for nearly a decade, but the guilt I’d feel if I just gave up would be worse.  I don’t know.  My head was just so fucked up.  I needed to just not think for a while.

I didn’t answer Varric, I didn’t say anything.  I just pretended to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my longest chapter yet :0 I just want to admit that I struggled a bit with Solas' part, mostly because my lore knowledge isn't at expert level, haha :P I hope Fitz' talk with our buddy Solas wasn't a let down :)  
> Also! I can't get over how long this has gotten and I really hope everyone continues to enjoy it as much as I am! I've been kinda obsessing over it; I made playlists, fanart, and everything! 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading !


	35. Act II: So, An Elf Walks Into A Bar...

My blanking spells weren’t serious.  Not yet.  The only worry I had with them was the fact that I couldn’t think of a single reason for me to even _be_ having them.  What the hell causes a guy to shut down for five minutes?  It’s not like it’s even painful.  Hell, my blank outs never even made me fall down, in a faint or whatever.  I would literally just stay in that same position as before.  Like a rock; totally still and unmoving.  Sure, sometimes I’d get a headache afterwards, or a bad feeling in my gut.  But, that’s to be expected, right?  I don’t know. 

Back in the beginning, I just ignored them, and it was easy.  The spells didn’t happen often and, most of the time, they were barely noticeable.  There were probably even times when I didn’t notice that I’d just zoned out, because I zone out on a daily basis!  The only difference was the headache I’d get after a blanking spell.  But, then again, I had a lot of headaches back then, and I’m sure everyone did; what with the war, the Breach, and everything in between. 

Anyways, like I said; I ignored my blank outs.  I probably should’ve been more worried, but there was just too much going on for me to really care that my mind was fucking up some more.  You know, priorities.

~

The final day of my work reprieve saw me in the tavern, getting properly wasted with the help of Sera and some of the Chargers.  Me and Sera were making a rather dogged attempt at cajoling Krem into a (rigged) dare that would involve the loser having to serenade the next person to enter the bar.  Unfortunately, it seemed like he wasn’t quite drunk enough for our peer pressure just yet because he kept brushing us off.  Instead, I took my cues from Sera, who knew a losing battle when she saw one, and we put our efforts onto the next most likely candidate.  Dalish, another Charger who was nearly as fun as Sera, was near dropping.  She’d been drinking before I’d even arrived, and you could tell by how loud her voice was as well as the continual laughing at things that weren’t necessarily funny. 

Sera switched seats before I even oriented myself to focusing on our new target.  She had her arm flung over the other woman’s shoulders when I finally managed to stumble my way to the chair on the other side of Dalish.  I grinned toothily when she turned to me; she seemed only fractionally surprised by the sudden attention.

“Hey, wanna know what’s fun?”

I didn’t hear what Sera said next, because in that moment someone fell into me.  The mug I’d been drinking from was the critical victim in this incident.  It fell from my hands and tumbled its way across the table where it fell to its death; alcohol flying out everywhere, coating the table and floor in its wake.  Indignant over the demise of my well-earned alcohol (I actually _paid_ for it), I whipped around to tell off the asshole who knocked into me.

“What the _fuck_ , man–”

“Oh, it’s you.”

Foster stood behind me, glaring.  I had to squint a bit before I even recognized him, but when I did, I scowled right back.

“Yeah, now fuck off.”

I thought he was gonna push me.  He didn’t, but he didn’t leave either.  One of his friends was pulling him, trying to move him along.  Foster kept staring at me and, in my drunken state, my tolerance was so fucking shot; I didn't feel like letting him have this one. 

My mind was going into fight zone; I really didn’t like him towering over me as I sat on a relatively low chair.  I didn’t register Foster’s next couple of words, in part because of my own issues and the overall loudness of the bar, but I did take in the stance he was in, and the look of hostility on his face as he spoke.  I shot up, my chair flying backwards and knocking into Foster’s knees even though he had jumped back at my sudden movements.

“You wanna fuckin’ go, bro?  ‘Cuz I’ll fuc–”

“Nope, not today.  Move along, move along.” 

Someone much taller than me had one massive arm wrapped around my shoulders and was directing me in the opposite way of my former adversary.  I was momentarily confused (though I had enough mind to snatch up Dalish’s half-empty mug before we cleared the table), since I wasn’t all that used to people being taller than me (and my escort was _definitely_ taller).  And so, my anger was quickly forgotten in order to find out who the hell took away my chance at doing bodily harm to a nasty _shem_.

“Eh…Bull?”  I blinked up at him, totally not understanding why he intervened.  He sat me at a table, which I guessed was the one he’d been sitting at before he broke up the not-fight.  We were welcomed back with some cheers from people I recognized as even more of Bull’s Chargers.  I also noticed that this new table had the perfect view of my old table, which I took pleasure in when I looked back only to see Sera tripping Foster.  I almost fell over laughing, if Bull hadn’t kept me sitting up.  As it was, I ended up leaning, rather heavily, over the table.

“Okay, calm down, kid.  Not that funny.”

“Shh-errrr, it was!  You see that shit?  Hah!”  Bull shook his head, picking up his mug which immediately reminded me of the murder of my own mug.

“Wait…why’d you do that?”  I demanded, frowning up at him.

“You would’ve regretted that fight in the morning.  Aren’t you heading out with that guy tomorrow?”  I downed Dalish’s mug in one go at his words.

“Pfft.”  I rolled my eyes and leaned on the table until I practically had my head lying on the sticky wood.  “You know too much.”

Bull laughed.  “Well, I’m supposed to.  For instance, I know your company leader is sitting at that table over there,” he nodded his head to a table somewhere to the right, but I was sort of distracted by his horns.  It was weird seeing them up close.  “You can bet your ass he wouldn’t be happy to see two recruits drunk and fighting, right before a mission.”

I scoffed, finally looking over to where Bull had indicated.  Sure enough, my unfocused eyes eventually registered the vaguely familiar form of my new company leader.  He was a pretty short and stocky guy, and I’d only met him once so I didn’t know much about him yet.  It did get me thinking about how my old leader, Jemmy, would’ve reacted if she caught me in a tavern brawl.  I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran down my back.

“’Kay...yikes,”  I conceded, albeit reluctantly.  “Bastard woulda deserved it, though.”

“You two got history?”  Bull asked, innocently enough, taking a giant swig of ale.

“Nah, he’s jus’ a dick.  Needs a fist in the face.”

Bull just hummed.  After a moment, he said, “Didn’t take you for the type to start a fight.”

I gave him an offended look, but he just stared back and said, “You would’ve thrown the first punch, and you know it.”

“That don’t mean I started it,”  I retorted.  “’Sides, if Skinner heard half the shit he says, she’d’ve done way worse.  I fuckin’ bet ya.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Don’t worry, I believe you.”  Bull’s voice was amenable, maybe a bit lofty, and I was too drunk to really tell if he was just humoring me or not.  “Anyways, keep the fighting for when you’re on the job.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, drawing out the words so that my sarcasm was extra obvious.  “Scouts don’t get to fight.  Always gotta let the soldier do that shit.  Ain’t fair.”  At this point, my head was nestled quite comfortably on the table, using my arms as a pillow.  I could only peer up at Bull through one eye, since the other was all squished up from where it was resting on my wrist.  I was getting sleepy now that there was no more alcohol in my reach, and no one was offering to get me any more. 

Bull let out a thoughtful grunt, or at least I thought it sounded thoughtful.  It was an acknowledgment of my grumblings, at the very least.

“You ever thought of joining the Boss?”  Bull grinned down at me, leaning in a bit.  “Unlike you scouts, we get _lots_ of action.”

“Urgh.  I dunno.  Sounds too…”  I struggled to find the words; my mind was running sluggishly at best and I was faintly aware that I was probably close to passing out.

“Is too much respon…responsibility.”  I wiggled my fingers at him, since I couldn’t move my arms without messing up my nice impromptu pillow. 

“Alright, who let him drink?”

“’Mrita!”  I turned my head slightly to look up at the new arrival.  Amrita stood over me, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

“You leave at dawn tomorrow!  Honestly, have you no self control?” she chided me, sounding ever so disapproving. 

I blinked at her, not even bothering to lift my head up from the table.  “Everyone’s here, though!  Not jus’ me.  Tell her, Bull.”  I wiggled my fingers in his direction.

“Not getting involved in this.”

“Boo, you whore.”  I pouted at him for extra measure.

“Alright, up you get.” 

Before I knew it, I wasn’t sitting anymore.  Instead, I found myself with one arm around Amrita’s shoulders while she basically kept me from collapsing on the floor.  I tried to tell her she was too short for this, but broke down in giggles half way through.  My antics only served to make her all the more determined to get me out of there.

She practically dragged me back to my cabin, which, luckily, wasn’t a far walk at all.   She knocked on the door, while I just whined at her to let me go.

“Varric’s not in,” was what I _tried_ to say.  It ended up much more slurred than I meant, but Amrita seemed to be fluent in drunk-speech because she didn’t knock again; she just opened the door.

She helped me into bed, even going so far as to help me take my boots off.  I flopped backwards on my bed once my feet were free; quickly bundling myself up in the blanket that lay haphazardly on the bed, one half was lying on the floor rather than on the actual cot where it belonged.

“Aw, I love this blanket,”  I murmured, shifting around until I was comfortable.  I peered out from under my coverings, suddenly remembering that Amrita was still there.  I caught sight of her over by Varric’s desk, scribbling something down on a piece of paper.  “Whatchu doin’?”

“I’m telling Varric to wake you up bright and early tomorrow.  So you’re not late.  Since you’re leaving for the Storm Coast _at dawn_.”

I mumbled something incoherent into my blanket, preferring to think about sleeping rather than the nagging tone in Amrita’s voice.  I only half heard her say goodnight, and didn’t even hear the door shut after her.  I would’ve totally fallen asleep, too, if my brain hadn’t decided to replay Amrita’s words. 

Amrita left a note for Varric.

I sat up quickly, though it was really more of a lurch.  I kicked my blanket out from where it was wrapped around my legs, but I kept hold of it around my shoulders as I got up from my cot.  Wearing my blanket like a cape, I stumbled over to Varric’s desk and roughly sat myself onto the chair.  It took me a while to really think about what I was about to do, and I probably spent far too long making sure the quill I picked up was actually a writing utensil.  I also went to lengths to make sure that I stole un-used paper for this particular mission; for some reason, in that moment, it was very important to me that I didn’t mess up anything Varric was currently writing. 

“Yeah, you wanna fuckin’ letter.  I got this,”  I muttered to myself, like a challenge. 

All I can say for myself is that I got it into my stupid, wasted head that I was gonna write the best goddamn letter anybody’s ever read.  I was thinking that I’d finally just get my emotions and thoughts all out on paper, so that Hawke (and even Varric) would get exactly what I meant by leaving and not writing; since I had been obviously failing at explaining myself to Varric these past few months. 

I don’t remember writing half of it.  All I do remember is waking up to my name being called early the next morning.  And that I was on my bed.  With a face full of paper and a pounding headache.

“You eating paper in your sleep, Scholar?”  Varric was laughing at me.  I groaned and peeled the paper from my face, one of the corners slightly damp from drool.  I sat up slowly, mindful of the dizziness in my head. 

When I finally looked at Varric, he nearly broke down laughing.

“Ugh, tone it down, would ya?”  I pleaded, wincing as I brought one hand up to my head.

Varric got a hold of himself, though he had to look away from me.

“Oh, kid, you got…”  His laughter was more like light chuckling at this point, though still annoying.  “You got ink.  All over your face.”

I swiped the hand that was clutching my temple across my face, and when I brought it back, I could clearly see that my fingers were colored a faint grey and I almost groaned again.

“Shit, fuck.”  I stumbled from bed, nearly tripping thanks to my bad habit of wrapping my blanket around my legs, and went about searching for the washing basin.  I hesitated when I realized I was still gripping onto the sheet of paper that had previously been glued to my face.  Since I didn’t have the time, or the will, to actually look at what was on the paper, I folded it up and shoved it into my pocket. 

Varric handed me a towel, only after a few minutes of watching me nearly drown myself trying to wash the ink off.  He helpfully pointed out all the spots I missed as well, though in a very smug and teasing sort of way.

“Did you actually write anything, or did your drunken self just decide to _wear_ the ink?”

I scowled, still scrubbing the stained towel over the right side of my forehead. 

“Can you make fun of me later, and not when I’m ‘bout to be late for work?”

Varric shrugged, not looking the slightest bit sorry for me.  “Hey, I woke up early just so I could get your ass out of bed.  You should be grateful.”

“Oh, am I.  Thank you, oh so much, Great Varric.  Blessed be.”

He snorted and finally turned away from me, sitting down at his desk which already had piles of mail strewn across it.  “Alright, alright.  Down, Scholar.  Just, next time you decide to write a drunken letter, wait for me.  I would’ve paid to see that.”

“Wha – How’d you know it’s a letter?”  I sputtered.

Varric looked back at me, raising an eyebrow.  “Because I could clearly see the sentences once you unfastened it from your face…”  He trailed off, adopting a thoughtful look.  “Well, it looked like sentences.  It also looked very lopsided and illegible.” 

He suddenly grinned at me, leaning back in his chair.  “Say there, Scholar, why don’t you let me read it?”

I couldn’t help it.  I let out a short breath of laughter, shaking my head.  “Good one, Varric.  Well, I’m out.  See ya.”  I grabbed my rucksack, which I had been smart enough to pack before going out and getting utterly smashed.  Varric called out a goodbye, and if he was disappointed, he didn’t show any sign of it in his voice.  In any case, I didn’t look back to see what expression was on his face.  I had given him a letter addressed to Merrill the day before, so he would just have to be happy with that.

When I finally ambled up to my new party, I was pleased to find that I wasn’t at all late.  To make matters better (which I was in desperate need of, seeing as I was still hungover as hell), when Foster finally made it, he looked far worse than me.  I couldn’t help but smirk, though I made sure to do it in the opposite direction of him, so he wouldn’t see.  Bull was right.  I would’ve regretted it if I had decided to fight Foster last night.  I mean, I _wanted_ to, but I also wanted to keep my position as a scout.  I also didn’t want to have to deal with whatever punishment the Inquisition deals out for in-fighting. 

In all, the first day of travel wasn’t a very fun.  Travelling with a hangover is one of the worst nightmares known to mankind, and I didn’t even have sunglasses.  Simply put, it was torture and I made a grave vow to never get wasted the night before a scouting mission ever again.  Thankfully, the Coast was dark and the rain actually felt good, so it was a relief when we finally made it to the south camp.  The journey was so short, because, for the first time, we were allowed horses (though, I’m pretty sure riding a horse only made my hangover worse on that first day, but whatever).  Dennet had finally gotten into the flow of supplying horses for the entirety of the Inquisition; which meant that there were more to spare, so we didn’t have to save the horses for the longest trips anymore.  Anyways, we arrived in the early afternoon, not even a week after leaving Haven.  Of course, we didn’t get to rest; there were still a few hours left in the day.  Just enough time for us to do some useful work. 

At first, I got stuck pitching tents for the rest of our group.  Driftwood had lost quite a few scout since the last time I’d been there, and so there weren’t enough tents for all of us that were only just arriving (which, by the way, was a company far bigger than any I’d traveled with thus far).  I was guessing that they must’ve found something big here if they needed more manpower, though I had my doubts on the importance of these discoveries. 

Anyways, right after I was done with the tents, I was sent out with another scout for herb collection.  I spent the rest of the afternoon bundling blood lotus and elfroot, which was nice in that it didn’t require much cognitive functioning on my part.  By this point in my life, I could probably wrap up herbs in my damn sleep.  It also helped that I wasn’t anywhere near Foster.  If I’d been sent out with him rather than the nice (and blessedly quiet) girl I was actually grouped with, I probably wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation to fight him.  Without any witnesses, I could easily get the jump on him without worrying about repercussions.  Besides, he would never in a million years admit that one elf beat the shit out him.  I don’t know what it says about me, but the thought of sinking my fist into Foster’s dumb face got me through the day until I could finally, blissfully, pass out in my bedroll that night.

 ~

I spent quite a few weeks at the Coast this time around, and if I’m being honest, the work I was doing pretty much drove all other thoughts away.  I didn’t really think about the mage-templar thing, even though everyone at camp kept talking (and sometimes arguing) over it.  I was much more interested in the tasks given to me, which were finally more than just logging data on the flora and fauna in the area.  Instead, we were sent out in small groups, with the task of recording the layout of some old dwarven ruins that were discovered not too far away from our camp. 

Of course, the Inquisition thinks they’re the first to have found these ancient trading posts from the dwarven empire.  Meanwhile, I had already loitered all around those ruins during my few weeks of Storm Coast living, way back before the Conclave was even a thought.  I didn’t mention that tid bit to anyone, even though I was asked about the extent of my Storm Coast knowledge shortly after my return to Driftwood.  Harding had long since moved on, scouting far off in Orlais by now, so it was Jemmy’s lovely face I had straight-out lied to when I was asked about my history with this area. 

Apparently Jemmy was moved from the north camp because the last Lieutenant (the one who took over for Harding many weeks back) had a minor breakdown because of the consistently shitty weather.  Rumor had it that the guy started yelling at the ocean one night, throwing rocks at it and shit, and had to be physically restrained by the night watch, but that’s not really important. 

Jemmy had been a bit disappointed by my lack of interesting information and detail, which she didn’t even try to hide.  She outright stared at me when I mentioned that I’d only visited the place because I got lost.  With a few short words, she succeeded in making me feel extra stupid (even though I _knew_ that, in reality, I hadn’t gotten lost), and I walked away berating myself for ever blurting out that I’d been to this godforsaken hellhole. 

I couldn’t exactly talk about what I’d _really_ been doing at the Coast back then.  It’d raise too many eyebrows and I just knew it’d get back to the Nightingale at some point (and probably quickly, at that).  More importantly, I wouldn’t look so harmless anymore if it got out that I used to hang around a band of smugglers for undisclosed reasons.

I should probably mention what all this is about instead of being so vague.  It was just around a year before the Conclave (or, maybe it’s closer to two years now?  They all sort of blend together after a while, you know what I mean?).   I had been living it up in another closet in the back of some small village’s local tavern.  I think I was somewhere near Highever; don’t remember the town’s name though, on account of its stupidly long and hard to pronounce name.  Anyways, the town doesn’t matter whatsoever; it’s what I _heard_ one night in that old tavern that truly matters.

It must’ve been 9:40 (it could’ve still been 9:39, on second thought, but whatever), and I can still remember valiantly trying to ignore the stories being told about Hawke in that goddamn bar.  These stupid tales were still being told everywhere, and on a freaking regular basis.  The patrons at that tavern were likewise enamored with those stories.  I, on the other hand, had had _enough_.   I’d already heard nearly every rendition of _every_ single ‘Champion of fucking Kirkwall’ story over the past few years since the Rebellion, so I was sick as shit of hearing about them.  Thank god I’d stopped paying my attention to those stories, too.  Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have heard the very interesting (and very private) conversation going on at the end of the bar one night.  These two patrons were just a few steps away from where I was wiping down the floor after a particularly mean customer threw his ale at me.  Of course, I was the one who got yelled at for the transgression, which also meant I was forced to clean it all up. 

My ears were still burning from embarrassment, and repressed rage, but when I finally calmed down enough to tune into the conversation happening practically right above me, I was immediately hooked.  From where I was, kneeling on the hard ground, I lifted my eyes and peered at the customers through my bangs, so that I could discretely get a good look at the ones whispering.  A pretty old looking guy and a relatively young looking woman were leant in close to each other, whispering and occasionally looking around (probably for potential eavesdroppers; though they didn’t once look at the kneeling elf right next to them, cleaning up bits up glass and choking on the stench of piss-ale). 

“I’m telling you, it ain’t safe for no woman to be–”

“Shove it,” the woman interrupted, glaring the old man down.  “I asked about smugglers.  Didn’t ask for a lecture, did I?”

The old man sighed, presumably resigning himself to the fact that the woman could not be deterred.  “Alright, but don’t say I din’t warn you.”

He looked around the bar, a bit dramatically if you asked me, before leaning in even closer to the young woman.  Again, I was completely and utterly ignored.

“You’ll be lucky if you even get farther than the outskirts.  There be more bandits than you could handle on yer own, missy, and those smugglers yer lookin’ for won’t happily greet you, if that’s what yer thinkin’.  But, granted you get in good with them,” he paused for a moment to leer in her direction and I watched her scowl back before I directed my attention back to picking up glass before I cut myself.  “You’ll be fine.  The group yer lookin’ for will be in one of the southernmost caves, near the Driftwood Margin, if you even know where that it.”

“I do,” the woman replied, rather icily.  “And they know about the ruins, I take it?”

“Sure do,” the man nodded.  “You better watch yer back though.  They’ll suspect you of wantin’ to steal their treasure if you ask them as many questions as yer askin’ me.”

“So, there _is_ treasure?”  the woman said eagerly, completely disregarding the old man’s warning.

The man scoffed.  “Only a fool would say there weren’t any treasure in those parts.  You know how many pirates used to frequent that area?  Used to be scrawling with the scum.”  The man spat just then; I guess to properly convey his personal thoughts on pirates or something.  He kept talking after he got that off his chest (or mouth).

“’Course they buried their treasure in those caves.  However,” the old man pointed at the woman, giving her a severe look, “you’d have to be daft to go lookin’ for it.  Those smugglers ain’t goin’ ta find shit.”

“You can’t know that!”  the woman exclaimed, once again scoffing at the man’s words. 

“I know it’s more trouble than its worth.  Those shores are cursed, that’s for sure.  Only thing you find at the Storm Coast is death and misery.”

I sat there listening in, even after I’d picked up all the broken glass and wiped down the floor.  I pretended I was still cleaning though.  My boss was getting drunk anyways, and I knew from experience that he wouldn’t pay me any mind until he was good and drunk (give or take, four more mugs).  And I learned a lot from those two gossipers.  The old guy didn’t just end with that ominous warning either; he went on to warn the woman about her specific intents as well.  Apparently, she was looking for a scroll (probably gold too, but that kinda went without saying).  Cliché, I know, but it perked my interest.  Not that exact scroll, but what those two let slip when discussing it.  The man mentioned ancient Tevinter artefacts that were “probably lyin’ locked away in some bewitched chest, deep within the tunnels of those cursed caves”. 

He didn’t stop there either.  I actually dropped my towel when I heard his next words, the thing making a wet plopping sound as it made contact with the floor.  It was too loud for anyone but my crouched form to hear it, so I was able to retrieve it without having so much as a glance thrown my way. 

“The Vints did old magic down there… _blood magic_.”

The old man was practically hissing the words, referring to one of the dwarven ruins near the Driftwood Margin.  He continued, in an even lower voice, and I had to strain my ears just to catch his words.  “They brought all their slaves down in that cave, and fuckin’ slaughtered the poor bastards.  Messin’ with the very fabric of time itself, I heard.  Vints are still seen around those parts, too.  Doin’ the most unholy of acts.”  The man ended by serving the young woman a knowing look, like he had firsthand knowledge of all these facts and the primary sources to prove it.

“Bullshit,” the woman said without hesitation.  Though, when I peeked up at her, I noticed her face had definitely gone a shade paler.  “You’re having me on.”

“I swear on it.  Unnatural beasts.”  The man spat his feelings again.  I watched as the spittle arched in the air and I couldn’t help but glare a little as I saw it land just shy of one of the wine racks that sat in the back behind the bar. 

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t take one step near those shores.”

Naturally, I skipped town not even a day later.  That old man’s description reminded me, sharply and immediately, of Marcella’s magic trick that landed me in this fucking world.  I didn’t put it all together back then, but I knew that Kirkwall’s sewers were dug and built by slave labor, often at the expense of many of the slave’s lives.  Of course, if I knew what I’d learnt from Solas, I would’ve figured out that the slaves’ deaths probably resulted in the Veil becoming weak enough for a blood mage to make a nice little tear.  As it was, I just saw the similarities in their most basic and obvious forms.  Weird blood mage rituals and the possibility of those blood mages fucking with time?  There was no way I could just ignore this.  Besides, I was pretty confident in myself by this point.  I’d been travelling around Ferelden on my own for just about six years.  I knew how to navigate and I knew how to fight.  And, maybe I was feeling a bit reckless.  I don’t want to analyze myself, or my past self; it fucks with my head, but I can at least admit that I might’ve been a little fool-hardy back then.  I didn’t really care about running into trouble; I wasn’t really worried about dying either.

That crap doesn’t matter though.  My journey to the Storm Coast was quick and my map, while shitty, got me there without too much trouble; I didn’t get lost, which is always a win.  I would’ve loved to have been able to bypass the smugglers, but my chance of that was a resounding zero percent.  I don’t have much to say about my time with them other than the fact that they didn’t kill me (obviously), and that it sucked major balls. 

I also found jack-shit in that cave.  Turned out that the old geezer didn’t even know what he was talking about.  The whole talk about Vints doing creepy magic in caves on the Storm Coast was apparently an old, and widely told, story around Ferelden; more often told in the towns closest to the northern coast of the country.  None of the smugglers I talked to (not that they were fountains of knowledge) had heard anything about Vints messing with the fabric of time either. 

I should’ve known not to get my hopes up, but I guess I kinda did anyways.  In any case, I had to roll with some freaking smugglers for a couple of absolutely _dreadful_ weeks, and then it took me _days_ just to ditch them after I realized I wasn’t going to find anything on inter-dimensional travel or whatever.  I guess I’ll also add that: I only say I ditched those bastards because it’s nicer than saying that I had to basically make a great escape from a future of indentured-servitude to a group of fucking punk-ass smugglers.  I got away pretty fine though, maybe one or two more scars to join all the others, but I suppose that’s better than the alternative.

Anyways, that’s all in the past now, even though I still remembered the area pretty well.  At least it made my job of sketching the layout of the ruins much easier, and it even got exciting when talk came to camp that even more ruins were found north of us.  This was actually news to me; as far as my experience was concerned, my old smuggler buddies didn’t go that far north. 

I put my name in the drawing, along with all the other hopeful scouts who wanted to be the ones to scope out these new discoveries.  I was decently certain I’d get the job, too.  To put it simply, my skill at writing (and at fighting) generally put me above the rest, especially with the added advantage of being able to sketch basic scenery.

~

I was still at the south camp, waiting to hear about the new scouting assignments, when Amrita made her decision.  I knew it was coming, but I just didn’t think it’d affect me directly, you know?  So, there was I was, being completely innocent in nearly every way, and totally not expecting to get yelled at over anything (not even for the bugs I’d put in Foster’s bedroll: idea curtesy of Sera).  And then, one morning Jemmy started yelling me down just as I was getting breakfast, causing damn near half of our company to turn and stare at me.  I might have blushed, but my face was pretty well covered by the cowl-helmet combo.  For once, I was actually thankful for the annoying things.

“I don’t want to know what you bloody well did to have the Nightingale ask for you specifically, _by name_ ,” She gave me a completely blank look; I couldn’t even begin to decipher it, though the slight tick in her left eyebrow was possibly alluding to anger.  “You’re to make your way directly back to Haven.  Fast travel, no delay.”

“But, what about the ruins?” I asked right away, until I took a second to fully realize what she’d just said.  Then, I started feeling nervous instead of dismayed. 

“Wait…am I in trouble or somethin’?”

“You will be, if you keep asking stupid questions,” Jemmy snapped at me, seeming to be done with the whole conversation already.  She was even waving me away as she said, “You can just forget about the ruins; you’ll never return in time for that operation.  And, Maker’s Breath.  If you were in trouble, don’t you think there would be significantly more chains?  And a knife at your back?”

Jemmy stormed away, muttering about imbeciles and needing more scouts (“since the higher-ups keep taking the blighted useful ones”).  I shrugged it off.  Or, well, I tried to.  I couldn’t help but feel nervous that Leliana was about to pigeonhole me or something.  I didn’t exactly want to get interrogated by her, if you know what I mean.

My journey was a solitary one, surprisingly; no soldiers or nothing.  It was nostalgic, in a sort of lonely way.  It felt like I was back to travelling across Ferelden all on my own, just with the unpleasant addition of a swirling, green abyss of death hovering over me the entire way.  The best thing about my solitary trip was that I was able to move quicker, and more easily, than ever before.  I was actually given a horse!  The downside was that it only made me that much more nervous and suspicious about the reason for my being recalled.  I could only assume that my presence was required with urgency, thus explaining the rather uncommon gesture of giving the lone scout a horse; a scout who wasn’t even technically scouting at that.  Ah, well, I might just be over-analyzing everything.  It doesn’t matter, it’s just a fucking horse.

Anyways, I made it to Haven in record time; only taking breaks for the horse and one very short break for me so I could sleep.  The journey only took me a few days; I arrived early in the morning four days after my hasty departure from Driftwood.  To my surprise, Amrita was waiting for me at the gates.  She rushed to me when I neared the stables.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, looking extremely frazzled, and seeming to be just as nervous as I felt.  “It’s my fault you’ve been called back here on such short notice.  I didn’t know Leliana was going to do that.  I insisted we wait, but there was no talki–”

“Whoa, slow down, gimme a sec,” I pleaded, not even off my horse yet.  I handed the reigns over to Dennet and hopped off. 

“What’s up?  What’s goin’ on?”

Amrita began to tell me everything, quickly and concisely, all while wringing her hands and leading us towards Haven, and presumably the Chantry. 

“A lot has happened since the last we spoke.  I went to Redcliffe to contact the mages, and it was all wrong.  They sold themselves to a Tevinter magister.”  She visibly bristled at this, and likely had a lot more to say, if only time had permitted it.  Instead, Amrita just continued to explain the whole sketchy situation; she told me about meeting some other Vint called Dorian and about this fucked up Vint cult that the magister or whatever had going on.  She ended by telling me about the advisors' new plan on how to proceed, while also stopping the mages from being completely handed over to the Vints.  Amrita sort of bypassed the part where she decided the Inquisition would work with the mages in order to seal the Breach, but I got the picture without her having to explicitly say it.  I was a bit over-whelmed at the sudden onslaught of information, but I tried to pick out what seemed most important.  Like, what I had to do with any of this.

“So, what the hell am I here for?” I asked her, not even hiding my confusion.  There was literally nothing _I_ could do.

“Like I said, that’s my fault,” Amrita said, a bit contritely.  As we passed by Threnn’s stall, she shot a quick look in my direction, before finally admitting what she even meant by that.

“I wanted to ask you to come with me.  To Redcliffe.  When I confront Alexius.”

I gaped.  “You mean the trap you literally just explained to me?  Like, the dangerous one?  Where you’re gonna be _bait_?”

Finally entering the Chantry, Amrita began a rather longwinded reply, “Leliana says she will have it all under control!  Her spies will enter through a secret tunnel, remember?  The Venatori won’t be able to counter that kind of surprise attack.  I have every confidence in this plan - I promise!”

“Okay…but, like, if you’re so confidence…why’d you ask for me?  Besides, shouldn’t you be taking someone more important than me?”

“Huh, and here I was, assuming you must be very important, seeing as our blessed Herald refused to so much as begin preparations until she had the chance to see _you_.” 

A man stepped out from behind one of the many pillars that lined the Chantry’s main hall, and I could feel my lip immediately curling at the rather corny entrance (really, hiding behind pillars?).  Aside from this weirdo, and a couple sisters, I could clearly see the slim form of Madame de Fer a few paces away, and I knew she had to be paying attention to us.  I hadn’t actually met her, even though she’d been at camp the last time I’d been here.  She didn’t leave the Chantry much at all, but a lot of Haven’s gossip revolved around her anyways; some of it was insulting, but most of it was more awe-struck that anything.  In any case, I could easily identify her just from all the gossip I’d heard and she looked just as impressive as all that talk made her out to be.

But the guy, I’d never seen him before.  At all.  I would’ve remembered seeing that mustache, and that outfit, because me and Sera probably would’ve cackled about it at some point.

“The fuck are you?”

The man adopted an exaggeratedly appalled face.  “Such strong language.  I am the ‘good Vint’, assuming our dear Herald has told you all about me.”

I looked to Amrita, who just sighed.

“That’s Dorian.”

“Oh…yeah.  ‘Kay.”  I brought the conversation back to more pressing matters.  “Amrita, I dunno what you think _I_ can do, but it’s probably way more than I’m actually capable of.”

“All you have to do is stand there.  Maybe scowl a little, at the right times.  You needn’t talk at all!”  Amrita was pretty much begging me.  She had her hands clasped together and she was looking at me with especially wide eyes, which I knew she was doing purposely.

I looked between her and Dorian, who just stared back at me with raised eyebrows and a small smirk.  I turned completely to Amrita, feeling a little bit exasperated.

“Isn’t there someone more…intimidating you should be bringing with you?  Like, Cassandra?  Or…” I was going to say Madame de Fer, but I felt too awkward saying her name out loud while she was very obviously listening in.  Instead, I waved my arms in her direction like that explained my unfinished sentence.

“Cassandra is coming!  And so is Vivienne!”  Amrita paused, as if realizing she wasn’t really helping her case.  She leaned in closer to me, lowering her voice even though it didn’t do much to deter the prying ears.  “You would be more like…moral support.  I don’t think I can do this without…”

She wasn’t going to say, ‘without you’; nothing so sappy as that.  I knew it automatically, just like I understood what she meant.  Amrita wanted a comforting presence; a friend to back her up, who wasn’t going to judge her or hold her to higher expectations than completely reasonable.  She must’ve really took my words to heart, on that one night from forever ago. 

But, mages.  Could I really voluntarily put myself in the middle of what could possibly turn into a full-out magical catastrophe.  This guy she’s meeting was a magister, and even though I didn’t know a whole heck of a lot about them, I knew they were supposed to be majorly powerful.  I didn’t really have the best record with Vints, either.  Hell, for me to even step foot into Redcliffe was dangerous.  There was just so much potential for my… abnormality to be found out. 

At the same time, there was no way I could say no to Amrita either.  I could make an endless list of reasons why I _shouldn’t_ go to Redcliffe, but it didn’t change the fact that I basically _had_ to go.  I let enough people down in the past to not want to do that to Amrita.  I could at least try to be a better person and uphold my promises, and all that shit.  Maybe make me feel a little less like shit for what I’ve done to _other_ people…

Besides, Amrita stopped everything just to pull me from the Coast.  All those hours of preparation, and movement, lost because she had hopes on me joining her.  God, even if I did say no, I bet Leliana would’ve knifed me in my sleep for the inconvenience I caused. 

“Sure, why not.  I always love chatting with psychopaths,”  I said, somewhat weakly.

Amrita grinned widely at me, clapping her hands together.  “Perfect! We’ll need to get you outfitted in something slightly more presentable, and then we’ll go over everything again.  In more detail.”

“Wait…what’s wrong with my uniform?”

Dorian snorted, apparently unable to resist from commenting.  “Aside from the fact that it’s coated in multiple layers of mud?  And, the fact that you haven’t bathed in Maker knows how long?  Then, there’s the overall hideousness of it.”

I scowled at him. I actually liked my uniform.  “Fuck off, asshole.”

“Ah!  You remind me of another ill-mannered elf I recently made acquaintances with.  How delightful.  There are more of you.”

“Play nice, please,” Amrita said, beginning to pull me away, further into the Chantry.  “If you both continue this on the journey to Redcliffe, I’m afraid Cassandra might just snap.  We’ve dealt with quite enough bickering as of late.”

“I, too, would appreciate being spared of childish arguing.”  Madame de Fer finally brought herself into the conversation, gracing us all with a rather regal look as she accompanied us to wherever Amrita was taking me, which seemed to be the War Room.  Dorian followed as well.

“Yo, if he’s chill, I’m chill.”

Madame der Fer didn’t respond to that.  Instead, she made a far more general statement.

“Hm, I think it will definitely be more beneficial if this one refrains, completely, from speaking when we confront the magister.”

Um, okay.  Score one for the Madame.  I had the distinct feeling of being laughed at on all fronts, but didn’t back talk for obvious reasons.  The four of us burst into the War Room, where the three advisors were congregated around a large map.  Predictably, they were arguing.  Cassandra was there as well, but she turned to acknowledge us, seemingly relieved to see us (or, at least, Amrita).  The others followed suit; Leliana’s eyes locking onto me almost immediately. 

“Ah, good.  I see you’ve hurried, and I trust your journey went well?”  It was worded like a question, but the woman didn’t give me a chance to answer.  “Here, your new uniform for this particular mission.”  She picked up a bundle and walked around the table to place it in my arms.  It was significantly heavier than I thought it’d be.  I tried not to drop it.

“Shit, this ain’t leather?”

Leliana hid a smile.  “No.  And, it is slightly flashier than you may be used to, I’m afraid.”  She was all business in the next second, as she kept talking.  “Herald, if you are ready, I believe we can head out in just under an hour.”

Amrita nodded, “Yes, I am.  Fitz, get dressed.  Then we will go over the plan in detail.”

Bobbing my head, I looked around the room before moving to the corner and placing my bundle of armor and clothes on top of a relatively empty table.  I didn’t think anything of getting undressed right then and there, until I heard an awkward cough and a smattering of snickers from behind me as I struggled to remove my still slightly damp leathers.  I looked back when I was almost to my tunic, only to see smirks and Amrita standing there with a hand to her forehead.

“I didn’t quite mean change in _here_.”

I shrugged and shot off a, “Well, _your_ loss”, before leaving the room quickly.  I'm pretty sure someone (who sounded suspiciously like the new guy) called out for me to take a bath while I was at it.  If I wasn't carrying heavy shit, I totally would've flipped him off.  Unfortunately, I also left knowing I’d have to slink right back in after I got the basics on, to ask for help with strapping up the metal armor.  I shrugged off the slight embarrassment.  Oh well.

My stomach felt sick, thinking about going to this dumb village full of mages and, even worse, there were _Vint_ ones.  All I could do to keep myself from panicking was to reiterate Amrita’s promises that I wasn’t actually expected to _do_ anything besides stand in the back and look tough.  I wasn’t sure if I could do the tough thing, given the circumstances; the best image I could probably portray would be more like ‘sullen-teenager-scowls-at-a-wall-and-occasionally-twitches-in-fear’. 

I guess it was a good thing that I got so good at faking shit, because my nerves didn’t go into the danger zone (surprisingly).  I was able to let my well-crafted (and hard-earned) apathy take over and push away my fears.  I knew that I could take care of myself now, so I wasn’t quite so scared of being harmed anymore.  And, by god, I was going to keep my secret hidden no matter how many mages were surrounding me. 

Besides, Leliana’s spies could be counted on (best of the best and all that, right?), and the plan wasn’t even all that bad.  And Amrita would be there, along with Cassandra and the other two. 

Redcliffe would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao so, of course, I call out last chapter as being my longest one yet and then this happens. This was really fun to write, I really like drunk!Fitz lol  
> also, side note: I'm back at school, so it kinda screws with my editing habits (I read my chapters out loud so I catch stuff easier) but I can't really do that with my roommate in the room lol, so there might be more errors since I gotta edit it all silently and whatnot :(  
> Thanks for reading, and for all the comments you guys! They mean so much and I love all the feedback I've been getting! Thank you! :) <3  
> ((PS: Don't worry, I am totally going to show what Fitz wrote in that letter!))


	36. Act II: How About No, Let's Not

Embarrassingly enough, Cullen had to help me with my armor.  I had never talked to him before, though I’d watched him train his soldiers in the front yard more than a couple of times in the past.  I thought about telling that a lot of his guys were assholes, but I figured it wasn’t really the time.  Besides, I don’t think he was really impressed with me, and I think he might’ve been against my involvement with this mission from the start.  He didn’t say anything about it though. And when I thanked him for helping me, he nodded and it was all perfectly civil.

My new outfit was flashy, just like Leliana had warned.  I was decked out in actual chainmail, with armored boots, and a chestplate that had an uncomfortably high neckline.  To make the shiny metal stand out even more, the uniform was bedazzled with red fucking fabric that hung over the shoulder pads, along with another strip that was wrapped around my waist like a fucking sash.  A grey piece of material displaying the Inquisition logo (or should I call it a symbol?) also rested over top of the chainmail that hung down to my knees.  To top it all off, my pants were red.  Fucking red pants. 

If Amrita hadn’t launched into the mission details, I would’ve started bitching.  But everyone was looking all serious and paying attention, so I had to suck it up and get over it.  I did a pretty good job at listening to Amrita and the advisors drone on, too, though I zoned out during some parts.  I got the jist of it though.

When the meeting was finally over, we all filed out of the War Room almost immediately.  I would’ve went on to follow Amrita (who was talking with both Dorian and Madame de Fer), if it weren’t for the fact that I was held back.

“Fitz, a word please?”

Leliana stood before me, staring me down in that intimidating way of hers.  Reluctantly, I nodded and followed her as she began walking down the Chantry corridor.  She didn’t talk until we were completely out of the building, and under the privacy of her own office-tent.  There were tables full of papers and books that my hands itched to pick up, but I refrained (for the sake of my own health).  Leliana’s voice caught my attention before I could get further distracted, and when I looked at her, I almost took a step back at the sheer intensity of her gaze.

“You are quite the interesting young man,” She began, only to pause after that single nerve-wracking sentence.  I fidgeted with my chestplate; tugging it up and down, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Heh, I’m flattered you think so, but–”

“Are you aware of the fact that someone worked very hard to erase all evidence of your existence?”  She stared at me, letting her words sink in once more before continuing.  I stood there, frozen. 

“Varric did very well.  He didn’t once mention you, even when Cassandra was interrogating him about the Champion of Kirkwall.  He wasn’t supposed to leave out any details, though it would be naïve to believe that he would tell the whole truth.  Still, even back in Kirkwall you have some very loyal friends.  It took me quite a while before I found someone who would talk.”

I felt like I’d just been doused with cold water, and then hit with a snowball packed with ice or something jarring like that.  I stayed silent, even though Leliana gave me time to respond.  I don’t think she was very surprised that I didn’t say anything.

“Unfortunately for your friends, and, I suppose for you as well, there are still some people in Kirkwall who remember you, though only a few were willing to speak of you with my associates.  They needed quite the persuasion, at that.”

“Okay, what the fuck is this?”  I demanded, trying to reign in nervous laughter.  I decided now would be a good time to start rambling so I went on, “Is this because of that time I got arrested?  I wasn’t charged with anything, and I was actually innocent, too!  And, besides, my record back there was completely spotless otherwise.  No matter wh–”

“You misunderstand me, Fitz.  You are not in trouble.”  Leliana interrupted, lips curving ever so slightly upwards.  Relief flooded through my systems, even though she wasn’t quite done talking yet.  “I’m simply curious.  Why would one of Hawke’s closest friends, one who was still nothing but a child, disappear so suddenly?  I even heard there was quite the search party for you.”

I made a face.  “Okay, one thing.  I wasn’t a _child_.  Nineteen is the age of a legal adult, thank you very much.  And, two, I don’t think that’s any of–” I cut myself off, realizing that my words were about to come out wrong.  When I thought it over, I knew it’d probably be better to just give Leliana an explanation, rather than antagonize her.  She didn’t seem angry, or even suspicious, though I did get the sense that she was fishing for something.  I decided I’d give her as close to the truth as possible.

“I had to leave Kirkwall.  I mean, d’ya know how hard it was for an elf to live in that shithole?”  When in doubt, pull the elf-card.  I would’ve continued, but Leliana interrupted.

“I would have thought that having the Champion’s favor–”

Annoyed that she just had to bring _him_ up again, my response was sort of rude.  “Yeah, and if you’d really done your homework you’d know I split before Hawke became the fucking ‘Champion’.  I only knew him when he was just some rich upstart who happened to come from old nobility or whatever.  Most people thought he was kind of a dick, to tell ya the truth.”

“Besides, you really expect me to just live off _his_ protection for my whole life?  I had to at least try to grow up and I couldn’t very well do that with him treating me like a fucking _child_.”  I glared at Leliana; though it wasn’t personally at her.  It still got me angry when I thought about how much Hawke used to coddle me, and that old, lingering anger was getting me all riled up as I stood there talking to the Inquisition’s spymaster, of all people.  “Which, by the way, I wasn’t.  Because I was a fucking adult.”

Leliana watched me, impassively, before nodding.  “Did you?”  I hesitated, blinking at her.

“Did you grow up?”  She clarified, when all I did was stare at her with blatant confusion on my face.

I stared back, a bit blankly.  Thankfully, my moment of anger was waning; leaving me sounding sarcastic rather than hostile.

“Yeah.  I’m really mature as fuck now.  Can’t ya tell?”

I think Leliana almost rolled her eyes.  She didn’t, but she gave off a distinct air of resignation as she responded to my crude words.  “Well, your language could definitely use some work.”  

“However, you _are_ one of our most…versatile scouts within our organization,” she admitted, almost begrudgingly.  “You are evidently educated, despite your overall appearance, and your fighting skills are impressive given the circumstances.  I would even suggest you think about joining my agents.  You would have to undergo more training, of course, but I think that, in time, you would do quite well.”

I opened my mouth, though I had absolutely no clue on how to respond.  Did that mean I passed whatever test this was?  Does it mean Leliana trusts me; or, I should say, does it mean my connections to Kirkwall and Hawke were not in any way suspicious anymore?  I decided to just go with it.  Overthinking it would just make my head hurt even worse.

“Haha, you’re funny,” I joked, though I stopped immediately with she just stared, deadpan, back at me.  “Uh, I mean, no…thanks?”

She waved a hand, “Well, it’s not like I can force you.  Anyways, you should move on.  They will be heading to the stables any second now.”

I nodded, beginning to turn away.  However, my mind was screaming at me to say something else and it was enough to make me halt in my tracks.  So, instead of going on my merry way, I turned back to Leliana, who just raised one curious eyebrow and waited for me to speak. 

“Um…I just think you should know…I’m not on good terms with H – uh, the Champion anymore.  So, like, I’m not in contact with him or anything…I just didn’t want you to think that I–”

Leliana just waved me off again, even more dismissively than before.  “Oh, I am quite aware.  If you had so much as wrote him a letter, I would have intercepted it.”

I bobbed my head, turning away so she wouldn’t see the look on my face.  Right, well.  I assumed she didn’t know about Varric, then.  After that, I wasted no time in getting the hell out of that tent.

I met up with Amrita and while she shot me a curious look, she didn’t ask any questions about my random conference with Leliana.  We, along with the other three people going on this hell mission, headed down the nearby stairs that led to the backend of the tavern.  Now that I wasn’t being grilled over my past anymore, I was back to fidgeting with my damn armor.  It was heavy, and I didn’t like how the chestplate felt on my throat; made it feel like someone had their hands over it.  To my surprise, Solas met up with us before we even made it to the gates.  He was carrying a bag, which made me do a double take.

“Wait, Solas is comin’, too?”  I asked, waving at him slightly.  He inclined his head at me, and I think he smiled, but I was still kinda focused on the whole armor situation.

Amrita sighed.  “Really, Fitz, did you not listen?  I already told you Solas was coming.  He will be staying with the troops, while we confront Alexius.  His healing skills might be needed, in case anyone gets hurt.” 

“Oh, so now we might get hurt?  What the hell happened to ‘this is totally safe, bro, don’t worry’?”  I huffed, only sort of joking.  I tugged at the chestplate again.  The damn thing was getting on my nerves even more than that helmet I had to wear as a scout.  Even the chainmail I had on was less annoying.  Given that, I couldn’t stop myself from changing the subject, though my voice came out a lot more whiny than I’d intended.  “Do I _have_ to wear this?”

“You look better than you ever have, dear.  Stop squirming.”

I grimaced back at Madame de Fer, even though she wasn’t even looking in my direction and was, in fact, walking a few paces ahead of me.  Dorian snickered from next to me, so I sent a scowl his way for good measure. 

Amrita didn’t answer me, though it wasn’t because my whining had annoyed her or anything.  We’d reached the stables and Dennet had engaged her into a brief run down on the mounts or whatever.  I think the ones we’d be riding were a breed that had only just been introduced to our humble stables, or something like that.

“Scholar!”

I turned around to see Varric heading towards our group.  He wasn’t quite running, but his stride could definitely be described as ‘in a hurry’.  Suddenly, the pack thrown over my shoulder felt much heavier, as I remembered the bit of folded paper that lay encased within it.

“Yo, Varric.”

“You just going to leave without saying goodbye?”  He reprimanded.  I held up both hands, giving him the universally known shrug that meant it wasn’t my fault.

“I’m just following her,” I told him, waving in the general direction of Amrita.

Varric wasn’t really having my nonchalance; he stood in front of me, frowning heavily.  He looked at Dorian, who was pretending to be looking at the mounts rather than at us.  Cassandra and Madame de Fer were next to Amrita, standing a little further away from us.  Varric pulled me away from Dorian and Solas (who wasn’t even pretending to be focused on something else and was simply staring at us).  Varric, with his back to the others, created a short barrier that separated me from the rest of the party.  He leaned in close to me, forcing me to bend over slightly, and a bit awkwardly, since it looked like he was about to start whispering.

“Maker’s balls, kid, what are you doing?”

I blinked.  “Huh?”

Varric gave me an incredulous look.  “Shit, Scholar, did you forget that you’re _terrified_ of magic?”

“Okay, I’m not terrif–”

“Oh, don’t give me that.”  Varric huffed, narrowing his eyes at me.  “You wouldn’t let Blondie so much as heal you back then.  Or do you not remember the time you got _stabbed_ and we had to physically drag you to the clinic?  And don’t think I haven’t noticed that look you get when mages so much as twitch in your direction.”

Flushing, I hissed back, “In case you’ve forgotten, Amrita is a mage and I don’t give her a ‘look’.”

Varric waved a hand, “You know that’s not what I meant.  I spent a lot of time watching you back when we were just coming from the Crossroads.  Every fight we had with a mage would make you all…jumpy.  And, then there was the time you told Chuckles not to shield you.”

Fuck, of course Varric would’ve overheard that.  “Okay, fine, whatever.  I know what I’m doing though, so it’s okay.”

“Is it?  Because I don’t think–”

“It is.  Amrita wants me there.  So what if I’m a little uncomfortable, yeah?  I’m not as bad as I was back then…I got this.”  I looked away, leaning back because my neck was starting to hurt.  I shifted feet and changed topic when I was certain that Varric was going to let me win this round.

“You know Leliana…knows.  Right?”

Varric raised his eyebrows, his expression relaxing a bit from the previous intensity that had dominated his features.  “Oh, she told you, did she?  Huh, I was wondering how long she’d wait.”

“You _knew_?”

“Oh, please.  Leliana’s probably been sitting on that information for months now.  She would’ve only brought it up if she deemed you safe.”

“Oh…”

Just then Amrita been calling for me to mount up, and I looked around only to see that they were all waiting for me.

“Shit, gotta go, Varric.  I’ll see ya!”  I waved at him as I jogged over to my own horse.

“Bye, Scholar.  Watch yourself out there.”

~

The journey was long, but actually sort of fun.  We didn’t travel with the rest of the Inquisition forces, who were going to set up camp just outside of Redcliffe, so we weren’t hindered by carriages and soldiers and whatnot.  It was just the five of us, and while we weren’t necessarily in a hurry, we made quick work of the trip.  I also got to know Dorian better, and even though my first impression of him was that he was a jerk, I learned that he was actually pretty funny.  I almost didn’t mind when he started asking me about where I was from.  Of course, all I said was Ferelden, but he just had to be a know-it-all.

“Your accent is unlike anything from around here.  Why so secretive?”  He asked me from over his shoulder, his horse currently trotting beside Amrita’s, who was just ahead of me.

“Fitz is from Kirkwall.”  Amrita said, carrying an edge of finality in her tone.  She knew I wasn’t from Kirkwall either, at least not originally.  I couldn’t help but smile a bit at her coming to my defense.  I had to give her credit too; she never pushed about my past.  Dorian, however, was apparently not to be deterred.  The other three were obviously listening in; I could feel the glances.

“His accent isn’t from the Free Marches either.  His is more…rough.  Who knew that was possible.”

“’Cuz I’m not from there either, jerkwad.”

“Well, then.  By all means, enlighten me.”

“Pfft.  Fine.  Small town near the Fork-U River.  It’s right next to the city of _Shutthefuckup_.”

Dorian huffed, evidently offended, although I was slowly getting used to the fact that his offended looks were, more often than not, pure fabrication.  He was dramatic like that.

“Hmpf.  I’ll find out eventually.”

“Dorian, darling, you do realize you might be acting incredibly rude right now?  The poor thing might not remember where he’s from.”

“Yeah, _darling_.”  I said, jumping on board of Madame de Fer’s slightly condescending words.  “Don’t be rude, you dick.”

Dorian just threw a completely unaffected look back my way.  “Yes, of course, Vivienne.  I’m certain he’s in near tears from my abhorrent behavior.”

I threw another curse at his back, which he didn’t acknowledge.  Amrita started talking about something completely unrelated and the conversation quickly moved on to safer topics, thank god.

That night we made camp near a little brook, encircled by the tall trees that were so typical in this part of Ferelden.  I was put on first watch, along with Cassandra, and so, after dinner, I made myself comfortable up against one of those tall trees for what was sure to be a long couple of hours.  I was already tired, which wasn’t all that surprising considering I’d been basically travelling non-stop since leaving the Coast a few days ago.

More times than I care to admit, I found myself staring up at the sky.  My back was to one of the trees, and my pack sat atop my lap like a comforting pillow that I wrapped both arms around.  The trees might have been thick, but I could still see the green swirls of light that seemed to be constantly moving in the sky.  It was even brighter at night.

“Still thinking about other worlds?”

I almost jumped up.  I looked around to see if anyone else heard that, before actually looking in Solas’ direction.  His tent was not too far from where I’d set up watch; he’d paused with his hand holding open one of the tent flaps, obviously getting ready to sleep.  I squinted at him, but no matter how hard I tried, it was too dark for me to make out the expression on his face. 

“Maybe.”  I answered, after a moment’s hesitation.

Solas let the tent close, and instead began walking over to me.  He sat down beside me, to my surprise, and joined me in staring at the Breach (even though I was technically staring at _him_ now). 

“There are stories of ancient passageways, and of corridors that led to more than our minds can even conceive.  Throughout those corridors, doors stood tall and proud, and more ornate than the most lavish castle you can imagine.  It is said that they opened to new and exotic places, never walked by the inhabitants of our world; neither immortal nor mortal.”

I sat there, hooked on Solas’ every word.  I could barely believe what he was saying, and I felt myself, from somewhere very deep down, grow excited at his story.

“Sadly, it is believed that these are naught but stories.  Tales of fantasy, told to entertain the young and old alike.”

“Is that what you believe?”

Solas looked at me, and I could finally see that his expression was as passive as ever.  Predictable. 

“I believe they are stories, of course.  But that does not mean that they were not once real.”

I almost scowled at him.  “That answer sucks.”

Solas actually let out a laugh, which caught me off guard.  “We have much to learn of old stories and tales.  Regardless of the ability to prove them true.”

“Yeah, well, I want truth.  I’ve had enough of fiction.”

Solas hummed, and I could tell that he was not so amused this time around.  “It takes some men their entire lives to find some semblance of truth, and you are still young yet.”

I snorted.  “Whatchu even talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I am simply attempting to make you think.  Do with it as you wish.”  With those rather curt words, the elf stood and left me to my post.

I stared after him, confused as all hell.  What the shit did he mean by all that finding truth crap?  I couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell me to go out and search for answers to my other-worldly questions.  Because, newsflash!  I’ve already tried that shit.  Multiple times.  Rather than let it get to me, I just scowled at his tent for a moment before turning my attention on the woods that surrounded us.  I didn’t need any cryptic, philosophic bullshit in my mind.  Not when there were more pressing matters, such as the Redcliffe situation. 

Well into my shift found me sitting by the firepit, a slightly crumpled piece of paper laid out, and painstakingly flattened, in my hands.  Cassandra was at the other end of camp somewhere, which was good because I didn’t need her peering over my shoulder. 

My drunken letter.  Usually I thought back on my drunken escapades with fond amusement, and maybe some embarrassment, but mostly amusement.  This time, however, I felt more mortified than anything.  And completely done with myself, and emotions.

The letter itself was pretty nonsensical, with a multitude of scribbles and smeared ink.  However, there were still parts that were legible.

It read:

 

_~~Dear Garrett Hawke,~~ _

_To: Hawke_

_Varric doesn’t understand anything.  He keeps pushing me to write you like that’s gonna do anything which is fucking dumb because ~~I don’t~~ I already know it won’t.  You probably don’t get it either but that’s just because you’ve been hearing about me from Varric who doesn’t understand anything and by anything I mean me.  _ _I tried telling him why I left but I don’t think he wants to hear it which is why he doesn’t understand.  I did my best trying to explain but I’m not really good at that stuff.  I’ll try again in this since I guess you deserve that much.  I know you’re really angry with me.  I can tell cuz Varric told me all you had to say bout me was ‘good for him’.  That’s cold man – not that I don’t deserve it!  I totally do but you gotta admit how salty that sounded okay?_

 _I'm derailing, what I'm trying to say is: I couldn’t stay in Kirkwall any longer. You know how unsafe it was (just look what happened right after I bailed) and you kept bossing me around like I was your ~~responsability~~ responsibility or something.  You'll probably deny it, but you were totally being unfair.  I was a full grown adult and you treated me like a kid and I know why.  I’m younger than you and the others and I knew jackshit about fighting and I was really weak and all that.  But that ~~don’t~~ doesn’t mean you get to order me around like you’re my dad.  ~~I wasn’t your fucking kid I was your~~ I can make my own goddamn decisions.  _ _I couldn’t grow up in that fucking city, not with all the other bullshit going down and not with you constantly hovering over my shoulder, acting like you’re about to lock me up forever.  I left and I’m stronger now and I’m not a burden anymore so it’s good.  And I don’t got to lie to you anymore – I know you’ll appreciate that.  I don’t wanna lie to you anymore because believe it or not it hurt me too.  I’m sorry.  Just know I had to.  Also, i_ _t’s probably better if we don’t contact each other after this. ~~I can’t talk~~ ~~I can’t be~~  We're both probably really different people now, and what I did to you was pretty bad, so it's gotta be best that we don't like make amends and all that crap and just keep going as we've been going.   ~~I wish it~~ It’s too late to go back now so you should just move on, which you've probably done by now since it’s been like 8 years or some shit like that._

_Also, I know I didn’t write a letter when I left and that was totally a dick move of me so consider this an apology for that too.  Sorry._

_Please don’t write back and please ignore everything Varric says, or just tell him that you don’t want to hear bout me, he’ll listen to you.  I’m not gonna write again and ~~it~~ I never planned on bothering you again so I’m sorry for that too. _

_~~Senc~~ ~~sincerly~~ Bye,_

_Fitz_

 

I think the only reason I could understand that letter was because I was already so used to my own handwriting.  My writing was usually pretty neat, but none of that was reflected in the monstrosity currently resting in my hands.  It was a horrible mess of cross-outs, scribbles, and letters that basically merged into a script that was less legible than a child’s first attempt at writing their own name.  I was almost impressed with myself for not writing a few letters backwards; it was _that_ bad. 

A few of the cross-outs and scribbles were for sentences that even drunken me couldn’t handle seeing.  Sentences that were like… _sentimental_.  I cringed just looking at the damn paper.  If Hawke had ever read it or hell, if Varric ever got a hold of it!  I can’t even imagine the horror I’d feel.  But, if Hawke read that shit…it wouldn’t be good for me.  He definitely wouldn’t have listened to my request of ending our contact with that stupid letter.  It would have only encouraged him to call me out in answering letter and then it would’ve turned into a whole big cyle of letters.  I didn’t want to even think about it. 

I had a feeling Hawke wasn’t writing me first because he was waiting for _me_ to initiate it (why should he reach out, when I was the one who ran out on him?).  The thing was, I didn’t know how long he could keep that up for.  Hawke was a stubborn man and, sure, he could be catty at times and maybe he knew how to hold a grudge (apparently), but it was just never in him to stay silent.  If you spoke with anyone who knew Hawke, and I talking about people who knew him as _Hawke_ , not as the ‘Champion’; if you asked them to tell you one thing about the guy, they’d tell you that it physically pains him to restrain from speaking.  Back in Kirkwall, you didn’t even have to enter the Hanged Man before you were hearing his obnoxious laughter; the sound probably reaching as far away as ten feet from the goddamn tavern.  He didn’t even have to be saying words; him and quiet didn’t mix.

I jerked myself out of the slouch I’d somehow gotten myself into as I was reading my letter.  I was always reminding myself not to think about him, or Kirkwall, and yet what do I do?  Fucking think about all of it.  I folded the letter up and, quietly, began tearing it to pieces.  The fire ate up the remnants quickly and, if I stared at it long enough, the flames almost made me forget about the painful knot that had formed in my throat.

It took us over a week to reach the damned village.  I was amped up the whole time too, even up to the part where the fucking magister tried to pull a whammy on Amrita after he found himself pigeonholed by Leliana’s agents.  A lot happened in that moment, but I can’t really say much on what exactly went down. 

My inability to speak on the event with clarity is partly due to the chaos that erupted.  But, mostly, it's because of the fact that I passed the fuck out as soon as the magister tried to kill Amrita.

~

I woke to a hand on my forehead, which wasn’t really welcome thanks to the monster headache I was currently sporting.  It took me a while to orient myself; in fact, if it weren’t for two murmured words, I probably would’ve been content to just stay lying wherever the hell I was lying.

“How odd.”

Solas.  I shot up, knocking the elf’s hand away a bit violently before putting myself out of arm’s reach of the guy.  My head spun from moving so quickly, and I almost puked.  The bad feeling in my gut, and the headache currently attempting to kill me, coincided with all the other blanking spells I’d had, but this one took the fucking cake.  I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

“What. The. _Fuck_.”  I rasped, my voice not quite wanting to work.  My hands fisted around soft cloth, which I belatedly recognized as the shirt I was wearing.  I only vaguely remembered that, last I could recall, I had been wearing armor.  I looked to Solas, only to find him staring at me with an eerie sort of intensity.  “Solas?”

“You passed out.  Alexius sent a spell at the Herald, a deeply corrupted one that messed with the very fabric of time itself.”  Solas didn’t once look away from me; and the bad feeling increased, only this time for a different reason.

“I was just attempting to heal you.  We…could not figure out what was wrong with you.”

I couldn’t stop myself.  I stared at him, I physically felt my eyes grow to the size of saucers, with my mouth hanging open.  This couldn’t mean…

“You,” I interrupted my own self in order to issue a rough cough.  “You tried to heal me?”

“With my magic, yes.”

Every curse word known to man ran through my head.  I wanted to fucking scream or maybe even knock Solas out in the hopes that it’d make him forget all about the past however many minutes.  Of course, I was more rational than that and knew such tactics would not work (though I did spend a split second contemplating it).  I probably looked neurotic, but I tried to play it cool anyways.

“Well, thanks, man.  I feel a hundred percent right now, good one.  So, where’s Amrita?”

Solas just frowned harder at me.  “I think it might be better if you were to first explain what just happened here.”

“Uh, what?  Um…dude, you literally just told me I passed out.  Probably just dehydrated or–”

For the first time ever, I heard a current of impatience color Solas’ words.  “You know exactly what I meant.”

I pursed my lips, looking up at his challenging stare.  I hated the way it felt to be stared at so intently, and I had to force myself to stand, slowly.  I only felt a little bit better once I stood taller than Solas.

“I dunno.”

Solas made a noise of disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Well then, is it safe to assume that all your questions on magic were tied to your natural resistance to it?”

I shrugged, not feeling all that talkative.

“You do know this should be impossible, don’t you?”

“No, really?”

Solas delivered a look that nearly made me want to take my sarcasm back and apologize.  I folded my arms, forcing myself to stare back at him; in the eyes this time.

“Look, it’s not somethin’ I understand.  It’s jus’ the way it is, get it?”

“And yet you chose to hide it.”  Solas said coolly.  “You must realize how unheard of this is.  You hold no powers…you simply repel magic _naturally_ , without any teachings whatsoever.”

“Yeah, and I’m not gonna be a fuckin’ lab rat because of it.”  I retorted, accidentally raising my voice.  I took a breath to get myself under control before speaking again.  “So, don’t get any ideas, alright?”

Solas shook his head, seeming to be deep in thought.  “An elf, whose very being rejects magic in its entirety…you should not exist.”

He said the last bit quietly, presumably to himself, but I couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Pfft.  You tellin’ me.”  This whole world shouldn’t exist, for crying out loud. 

When Solas next looked at me, his face was filled with renewed interest that been momentarily overshadowed when he was muttering to himself.  His gaze was intense, and inquisitive, which I knew promised nothing good.

“All this time, you have been completely unbound to the Fade, and I could not even tell.  And my magic…all my spells broke just upon making contact with your body.”  His expression turned reflective once more.  “I wonder how far that ability extends…”

“Yo, it ain’t a fuckin’ ability.  I’m not controlling it, yeah?  It’s probably nothin’ different from being Orzammar-born, so don’t sweat the details.”  I gave him a hard stare, meeting his eyes with only a minimal amount of trouble.  “You can’t tell _anyone_ , got it?”

Solas raised an eyebrow.  “Can’t I?  And, why is that?”

“Because…” I glared at him, words failing me just like every other time in my sorry life.  “Because it’s none of your business…and…I wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of attention.”

Solas waited for me to go on, actually refusing to speak even when I let the silence between us grow in a clear sign that I’d said my bit and done was done.  I forced myself to spit out some more fucking words, partly from the nerves that were making my heart do leaps and bounds in my chest.

“They’ll want to…know things,”  I said, my tone lowered to just slightly above a whisper.  “They’ll _experiment_ on me.  I can’t…”  I took a deep breath.

“I’ve already had that happen to me,” I told him, pulling the neckline of my tunic down to show Solas the upper part of the faint scars that stretched from the base of my throat to further down my chest; the surgical lines flowering off in a branch-like fashion before disappearing under the rest of my shirt.  “No one’s gonna do that again.  I won’t fuckin’ let ‘em.”  
“So, have a heart, man?  Okay?  I’m…I’m just tryin’ to live.  Whatever abnormalities I have aren’t gonna hurt anybody, ya know?  So just…please don’t tell.”

My voice turned pleading with that last bit, because Solas’ expression remained unmoved throughout my whole speech.  He made me wait in suspense, while he just studied me in silence for a few seconds after I finished speaking.  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding when he finally decided to say something.

“I will agree not to tell.”  He said, and I nearly cried with relief.  “I must admit, you are correct in that it is none of my business.  However, this…abnormality, as you call it, is too fascinating for me to simply forget about.  Would you indulge me, should I find myself questioning your situation in the future?

“Yeah, sure, whatever the hell you want, man.  Just don’t let it slip around other people, yeah?”

“You will find that I am very proficient in keeping secrets.”

“Cool, cool.”  I said, letting myself drop back onto the cot since I suddenly felt weak all over again.  Too much anxiety. 

“If you feel sick, I can retrieve a potion–”

“Those don’t work on me.”  I informed him, though it felt weird to say it so bluntly.  It almost felt good; revealing things that I’ve always had to hide behind alternate explanations.

“…Interesting.”  I didn’t have to even look at him to know Solas was once again deep in thought. 

I was actually thinking about trying to go back to sleep when there was a knock at the door.

The only reason I lifted my head was because I heard that it was actually Amrita entering the room.

“Hey!  You’re okay!”

I lost my grin real quick when I got a good look at her somber face.  I sat up slowly.  I had a bad feeling that I was in for some more talking.

“How do you feel?”  She asked me, giving Solas only the briefest of looks.

“I’m good.”  I said, looking to Solas as well.  He got the hint and, with only a short nod to the both of us, swept out of the room.

When the door shut behind him, all the composure seemed to deflate from Amrita’s posture.  She nearly threw herself at me, and I prepared myself for a hug, only to be surprised when she visibly restrained herself.  Instead, she sank down onto my cot, giving me an ample amount of personal space (which was quite unusual for her).  You could say I was confused.

“I…I don’t know what happened, but you can talk to me.”  I waited a beat before adding, “If you want.”

Amrita closed her eyes, lowering her head slightly.  Her black hair, which was tied together into a long braid, as always, fell forward and succeeded in obscuring her face.  She was silent for a long time, and I didn’t push it.

“It was horrible.”  She finally whispered, and I stiffened slightly when I heard the tears in her voice.  “He…he sent us into the future.  A whole _year_.  And, oh Fitz, it was the end of the world.”

I gulped, not quite believing what I was hearing.  I hadn’t been told a whole heck of a lot about that magister guy…or maybe, I had and I’d just zoned it out.  In any case, I at least remembered that he’d been dealing with magic that went beyond the scope of normal, if you could even call it that.  “That’s…are you okay?”

Amrita shook her head at me, still refusing to look up.  I hesitated, not really knowing what to say.  “It’s all–”

“Fitz, you _died_.”  Amrita practically yelled it out, making me jerk back; not only from her voice’s sudden change of pitch, but also from the fact that she’d whipped her head up and around in order to lock eyes with me.  I gaped, my eyes probably bulging out of my head.

“It’s not only that…you took your own life.”  Tear were streaking down her face, and she looked angry.  At first I thought it was directed at me, but then she continued speaking.  “That… _fucking_ bastard.  They took you and they…I don’t even want to think about it.”

I hesitated for a moment, before finally reaching out a hand.  I’d barely even touched her shoulder before she was turning; she seemed to take my gesture as a sign that she could finally hug me, because next thing I knew, her arms were around my shoulders and some of her hair was in my mouth.  For once, I was relieved by a hug, if only because it showed me that Amrita was at least still herself.

“I don’t know what went through your head during that time…Creators, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you any of this.”

“It’s okay.”  I told her quickly, after I’d removed some strands of hair from my mouth.

“No, it’s not,”  She murmured, sadly.  “Leliana was there, too.  She said you…”  Amrita trailed off, and I realized (with no small amount of horror) that she’d began crying with more vehemence.

“Hey, listen, you don’t gotta tell me.  Don’t force yourself to talk ab–”

Amrita pulled away from me, though she continued gripping my shoulders like a lifeline.  “No, you don’t understand.  They hurt you so much, they…You took your own life, Fitz.  If I hadn’t forced you to join me here, it never w–”

“Oh, come on.  Don’t go thinkin’ like that.”  I told her, a bit roughly.  I didn’t really want to hear any more, as bad as that sounds.  “It didn’t really happen, like, you stopped it.  So, there.  I didn’t kill myself.”

Amrita hiccupped.  “Don’t say it so…carelessly.”

“Sorry.”  I said, biting my lip.  She seemed to be getting herself back together, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to offer her any kind of comfort.  This was totally out of my depth. 

She didn’t have to tell me anymore.  I knew why I killed myself in that timeline, or whatever the fuck you want to call it.  Evil magic cult holding me hostage?  Yeah, I’d basically just told Solas that I’d rather die than be held captive again.  I mean, it’d have only been a matter of time before my abnormality was found out.  Better to off myself than let some cult play with my (living) body.  I want to say I hated that mentality; of being able to so bluntly think about killing myself, and of the apathy I felt towards the idea.  Seven years ago, I never would have thought that way.  I would’ve believed in fighting before giving up.  I also would’ve felt more than an uncomfortable twinge when I thought about my own death.

_

  
So, Amrita allied with the mages.  Dorian decided to stick around, too, for some reason. 

This was still much to do; the mages needed time to prepare before we could seal that damn Breach.  In the meantime, Amrita went off on more missions.  She probably went all over Ferelden by the time the mages were ready, some odd months later.  I didn’t see much of her, or any of her companions, during that time.  She made sure to send me a few letters here and there, but that was really it on the communication front.  In the weeks that followed Redcliffe, I wasn’t really into the whole talking thing.

I didn’t return to Haven with Amrita.  I stayed in the village for a week or two, with the rest of the forces that remained to help put the village back to rights after the whole mess with the Vints and mages.  After that, I received a missive from Charter, the elven woman in charge of the scouts, telling me to head over to one of the camps in the northeastern part of the Hinterlands.  She didn’t tell me why, only that I would find out when I got there.  I was in too much of a funk to really bother questioning it.  I was more happy over the idea of working, and not having to return to Haven (for the time being, at least).  I wanted to put that off for a little while longer.

My old friend Sawyer was there to greet me when I finally rolled up to Dusklight camp.  He was pretty damn excited to tell me all about what we were doing in this deserted part of the Hinterlands.  And it was deserted; I mean, no bandits or nothing.  Or, at least, none still living.

It was at that camp that I saw my first dragon.

We spent the next few weeks documenting and laying out the area for the folks back at headquarters.  I even had to kill a few baby dragons (sad, I know), which was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.  Sawyer seemed to noticed something was up with me, probably from the way I completely immersed myself in the work I was tasked with, but he didn’t say anything.  I don’t think I would’ve been kind if he had anyways, so it was probably best he stayed quiet.  In any case, I was efficient.  A lot of the dragonling scales and whatnot sent back to Haven for research were curtesy of my blade.  My more academic works, including an amateur map (since the professional mappers were taking forever to reach us) and copious notes on the region and creatures alike, were also sent back to Haven.  I spent nearly all of my down time writing in journals and avoiding people.

Don’t worry, though.  I didn’t stay emo for too long (that may be debatable, but I did get myself together before an entire month went by).  I had to repeat to myself, multiple times each day, that someone knowing my secret _wasn’t_ the end of the world.  I guess it hit me so hard because I always connected the idea of someone knowing about my thing with magic to what happened to me in Kirkwall; way back in the beginning, when all I knew of Thedas was a deranged blood mage and her penchant for (failed, but painful) experimentations.  I had to continuously remind myself that Solas wasn’t like that and that, despite my inherent mistrust for others, I had to believe him when he promised not to tell anybody.  For one thing, it's not like Solas even knew all that much.  He didn't get the chance to grill me again before he left with Amrita and the others.  Of course, I knew he'd corner me eventually, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad.  Talking about it, I mean.  A small part of me also wanted to ask him about my blanking spells; by this point, I knew that they had to be related to my thing with magic.  No other explanations made any sense.  In any case, I think part of me was glad, or relieved, that Solas found out.  And after a few weeks went by, and nothing happened to me, I only felt more relief.  I finally began to let myself believe that I was still safe, and that I wasn't about to become a fucking lab rat.

Granted, Solas still didn’t know about the whole other world thing.  Luckily, he couldn’t find that out unless I fucking _said_ it, or if he wanted to be weird, he could put two and two together and assume that my questions on other worlds also had to do with my situation.  But, that would be a pretty out-there idea, even for a guy like Solas.  Anyways, the magic thing was actually pretty easy to find out, relatively speaking.  I mean, it was basically a fucking miracle no one found out before Solas, and that’s not counting the few rogue mages I met during the Civil War (most of them are dead anyways, so I never really worried about those guys).  It got me thinking, though, that out of everybody, maybe it was a good thing it ended up being Solas who found me out.  He was a pretty private guy himself; not really the sharing type, and he’s not, like, malicious or anything.  He didn’t seem like a tattletale, if you get me.

So, I got over it.  For a few weeks I did nothing but mope, alienate some of my fellow scouts, and rid myself of some pent-up emotions by killing some dragonlings.  But, I got better.  Sawyer was glad to see me back to myself; he didn’t even ask me what the hell was up with me, he just let everything go back to normal.  I think I scared some scouts when I laughed for the first time, over a dumb joke (they’d probably convinced themselves that I _couldn’t_ laugh, seeing as I hadn’t so much as smiled before that one night). 

I just needed time to get over myself.  After I did that, I was a-okay.  It was good, because my job in the Hinterlands was more fun than the Coast ever was.  I mean, the dragon was scary and all, but if we stayed low, it didn’t bother us.  I never in a million years thought I’d see a fucking dragon taking flight, or casually breathing fire, but I guess it just takes a trip to the Hinterlands to see some shit go down.  Yeah, I’d avoided the whole dragon-rumor-thing at the Coast, but this was different.  My job wasn’t to actively watch, or get close to, the dragon.  We dealt with the babies when they attacked us, true enough, but our main objective was to map the area.  I don’t know if that meant someone was gonna eventually take this dragon on, or what, but for now it was just fun to sneak around.  I also liked the part where I got to kill beasts; which is macabre of me, I know, but I just had a lot of pent-up rage and shit, alright?  And those things always tried to kill us first.

I liked doing this stuff.  I liked collecting herbs and stuff, and surveying areas.  It made me think about what kind of job I’d have had back home, if I’d been given the chance.  I hadn’t even made it to junior year, hadn’t even taken the SATs, so I never really got around to thinking about what I’d do with my future.  I liked this though.  I liked being outside, and away from hordes of people.  It might sound weird, but I felt relaxed when I was scouting (I mean, not to say I felt that way when a dragonling was at my throat, but you know what I meant).  And the work was tiring enough that I didn’t have the energy to think a whole lot when it was time to go to sleep at night.  That was just an additional perk; the cherry on top, if you will. 

But, seriously, I could see myself doing this shit for a long time.  It beat working like a slave in some racist tavern in some racist human town.  At least here I felt free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fitz' uniform is based on the inquisition scout armor, i got it in a new playthrough i started recently and it looks sooo cool!
> 
> anyways! another long chapter, haha, BUT! guess how long before we get to a certain reunion >:) (okay, it might be a lil ways off still, but it's within sight now and i can't wait!)  
> thanks for reading! you guys are so sweet, i just can't say it enough about how much i love reading all your comments and thoughts. i get all giddy when i see the notifications lol :) love yall!!


	37. Act II: Well, That's Fucking Ominous

When I got a letter from Amrita saying they were nearly ready to seal the Breach, I also received leave to go back to Haven.  I don’t know if Amrita (or Leliana) had to pull some strings for that to happen, but it’s not like I was going to question it.  I was ready to go back to Haven, and everything was looking up, too!  Once the Breach was sealed, it might finally stop feeling like the world was going to blow up at any second. 

Don’t get me wrong, I knew there was more to what went down in Redcliffe than Amrita had told me (call it intuition) and I knew it probably meant that there was still a lot of work to be done.  Another adversary to kill or something; that’s how it usually goes with these things, I didn’t even need Varric to tell me that. 

For now, though, it felt like the start to another chapter in a story.  A fucking shitty story, but a story nonetheless.  In any case, we’d finally got past the rising action; the climax was just on the horizon.   Even if we still had to go through a lot more shit before we could call it over, at least we had more hope than in the beginning.

~

“Yo, what’s up, assholes?”

Sera cheered upon seeing me, as did a couple of the Charger’s she was sitting with.  Once I got close enough, she reached out and pulled me down, roughly, to sit next to her. 

“You friggin’ little shit, you!”  Sera said, as she pulled me into a headlock.  I could tell that she was already quite drunk.  “Where’ve you been, then?”

“Lay off!” I yelled, and when she finally let me go, the whole table started laughing (harder than they’d already _been_ laughing, I mean).  I grumbled and tried desperately to fix my hair, which I knew from experience was sticking up in all directions from Sera’s manhandling. 

“So, Fitz,” Krem, who was sitting across the table from me, began as he leaned in closer to us, like he was about to say something scandalous.  “Heard you were in dragon territory.  What was that like?”

Everyone seemed to look at me then, excitement pouring out every which direction.  I raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised.  I’d gotten used to thinking of dragons as something common, as fucking crazy as that sounds.

“Uh...a lot of fire?”  I pulled up the arm of my tunic to show them a particularly nasty burn on my bicep.  The blighted dragonling had got me even through my chainmail.  “Got this a couple weeks ago.  The babies are fuckin’ savage.”

Krem whistled at the mark.  “Hope the beast didn’t get you anywhere else.”

“Nah, I–”

“Have you been taking care of that?” Stitches asked, suddenly, leaning in absurdly close and looking between me and the burn, giving me a stern look while he was at it.  “It doesn’t even look like you’ve put salve on it.  It should be more faded than that by now!”

I shrugged, and pulled my arm away when he tried to snatch it.  I let my sleeve fall back down and scowled at the Charger’s healer.  “I did too.  Fuck off.”

Stitches scowled right back at me, and he looked prepared to fight me on this dumb burn, if Krem hadn’t stopped him.

“Oi, calm it.  He knows what’s he’s doing.  The man just doesn’t like magic.”

I looked at him then, shocked.  I didn’t think my aversion to magic was well-known.  Krem raised his eyebrows at me, giving me a look like ‘yeah, ‘course I know’.  He went on, rolling his eyes at me.

“Everybody and their dead uncle know you run at the sight of a mage.  Won’t even accept a potion made by one.”

“Fight me, you bastard.”  I said, shaking my fist at him for good measure when all he did was snort at me. 

Sera punched my arm with enough force that it was just shy of actually hurting.  “Ignore ‘im, Fitzy.  I’ve had it with all the ‘magic this, magic that’.”  She said, giving me a mug that Flissa had just delivered.  I accepted eagerly, wasting no time in beginning to down it.  “Shite, keep that rubbish to yerself and we’re all fine, yeah?”

“Yeah!”  I agreed, knocking mugs with her. 

The afternoon went by quickly after that.  One ale went much too quickly to five (or twenty) ales, and next thing I knew, I was dragging Sera outside for a walk to the lake.

She bitched the entire way, stumbling and cursing, while Chantry folk and normal people alike jumped out of our way.  I laughed as she threatened me, and told her to just wait. 

When we got to the lake, I spread my arms wide like I was presenting her with something great.  She scowled and pushed me.  I pouted, disappointed that she wasn’t as psyched as I was over this beautiful, frozen abyss.

“What the frig we doing out here?  It’s cold as balls.”

“You ever skate?”  I asked, feeling childish.  “Come on, it’s fun!”

I batted her arms away when she tried to stop me, and stepped out onto the ice.  I slid forward and forward, enjoying the feeling of being on ice again.  I hadn’t been around Haven enough to really enjoy the scenery.  God knows I was only indulging myself because I was drunk as hell right now.  If I were sober, I wouldn’t have let myself go near this lake.

“Yer friggin’ mad!”

I waved at Sera from where I stood a few yards away from her; my feet were placed quite securely on the ice (though I was drunk enough where my motor functioning wasn’t topnotch).  I wished, blissfully, for my old ice-skates. 

I played hockey for years as a kid.  Moved on to recreational hockey when I got older and discovered that I didn’t have a competitive bone in my body.  So, I was a pretty good skater.  Even in boots that were totally not meant for gliding around a frozen lake.

“Sera, you wuss!”  I mocked, while she just gave me rude gestures to accompany her own name-calling.  “Fuck, wish I had skates.” 

I fell over with those words, sprawling out on the ice like I was about to making a snow angel.  Sera began to obnoxiously laugh at me from in the distance, right as a new person joined our impromptu outside-party.

“Fitz?  Are you okay?  What are you doing?”

I lifted my head, grinning at Amrita, who was apparently (and needlessly) concerned about me.

I raised an arm, and waved at her from my position on the ice.  “Yo, ‘Rita.  How’s it hangin’?”

This set Sera off into another wave of obnoxious laughter, and I couldn’t stop myself from joining.

“Ugh, you’re both so…”  Amrita couldn’t even think of a fitting adjective, so she gave up and moved on.  “Fitz, get off the ice before something bad happens!”

“Aw, come on, Inky!”  Sera whined, wrapping an arm around the other elf.  “Don’t be like that.  Let ‘im flail around on the bloody lake.  Like an arse!”

“People are staring.”  Amrita said, still unamused.  I sighed, overdramatically (though I might’ve been too far away for them to hear it), and pulled myself up.

“Only ‘cuz you asked so nicely,” I called out, before steadying myself.  When I was ready, I shot myself forward on the heels of my boots, heading for land in a straight-line.  I fell over as soon as I hit land, tumbling into the snow that covered the ground.  I laughed like a lunatic the entire time.

Amrita lifted me out of the snowbank while Sera just pointed and laughed.

“You idiot,” Amrita muttered once I was standing on both legs once more. 

“Herald!” 

A recruit ran up to us, pausing only to look between the three of us in slight confusion; from me, with snow clinging to my clothing in random places and all over, to Sera who was guffawing and making fun of me at the same time.  The recruit shook their head, visibly deciding to ignore us, and focused on Amrita.  “The advisors are waiting for you in the War Room.”

“Thank you.”  Amrita said, nodding at the recruit, who then took their chance to run back to wherever they came from.  Amrita pulled me along with her as she started walking back towards the front gates.  “Inside with you, both of you.  You’re going to catch sick being out like this.”

“Pfft.  Sure thing, Jane Austen.”  I said, the old author’s name flying off my tongue randomly.  I was too drunk to wonder at how I’d thought of that.  My mind was moving on in the next moment as I blurted out, “Do you skate, bro?”

“Jane Au…Never mind.  And, no?  Oh, please just go.”  Amrita said, pushing me towards my cabin.  I stumbled, mostly in surprise that we’d already made it past the gates and up the stairs, but I complied nonetheless.  I knew I had to change.  My clothing was all damp and already clinging to me uncomfortably.  And it was cold, but that’s pretty obvious seeing as we were in some hellscape colder than fucking Canada.

I fiddled with the doorknob.  It was only just starting to get dark, so I really didn’t have much of an excuse besides how out of it I was, but I did end up getting the door open on my own.  I entered the cabin, and almost immediately walked into Varric.

“Whoa,” he said, catching me as I faltered; saving me from falling over.  “What the…Scholar!  What the Void happened to you?”

“Ice-skating!”

Varric looked at me in confusion before deciding to ignore it.  He helped me to my cot and basically rifled through my stuff so he could throw dry clothes at me.  I got changed, which only made me more aware of my drunken state as I tried to get my arms through the holes of my shirt.

“Scholar, your neck goes through that one.”

“Pfft.” I gave up and fell onto my bed.  I think I blanked out for a few moments, because next thing I knew, Varric was shaking my shoulder lightly.

I realized I had my shirt on, finally, and that Varric was speaking.

“Okay, how much have you had?  It’s not even dark yet.”  He was saying, apparently not noticing that I’d been elsewhere.  “This is pretty pathetic, even for you.”

“Harsh, bro.”  I whined back.  Varric let out a laugh, letting me know he was only joking.

“I suppose we might as well start celebrating now.” He said, pausing as we heard some cheers from outside.  “Guess you’re not the only one.”

“’Course not!  You should see Sera.”  I said, grinning stupidly.  I was still laid out on my bed, so I got comfy.  Even though it was early, I’d had a long week of travel and between that and my excessive drinking, I was feeling it.  I let out a huge yawn right as I began to ask Varric a question, and had to start over so he could understand me.

“When’s the Breach bein’ sealed?”

“Day after tomorrow, I believe.”  He replied, before giving me a meaningful look.  “So, try not to drink yourself into oblivion before then, alright?”

I waved one lazy hand at him, dismissing his words.  “Nah...”  I was going to say something, but at the last second, I lost all motivation to actually form words.  I waved again instead, drawing my blanket up to my chin at the same time. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, with me curled up on my cot and Varric flipping through some papers on his desk.  Varric, of course, had to go and break what was a very relaxing moment.

“You going to write any letters this time, Scholar?”  Just from his tone, I could tell he was trying not to laugh.  And that he was going to start _pushing_ in a second.

“Ugh, can you _not_?” I pleaded, turning over to face the wall.  He did start laughing then, as I was shifting around, trying to reclaim the comfortable position I’d had to abandon after Varric’s dumb words.

“You have to admit, it’s hilarious.”

“Nope.”

Varric chuckled, before turning serious.  “You know, no need to be embarrassed.  I think it’s really telling, how much you–”

“Please, Varric,” I interrupted, tiredly.  “Not this again.”

“I’m just saying, Scholar, it can’t hurt to let your feelings out every once in a while.”  The candle that was illuminating the wall in front of me flickered out of view as Varric moved around at his desk.  I shut my eyes.  “Maker knows you hide enough.”

“I am a tr– _trove_ of feeling, man,” I said passionately to the wall, pretending it was Varric.  “A bastion of emotion.  The true art is that of concealing said feeling, as a wise woman once said.”

“Yeah, and who was that?”  Varric said, humoring my melodramatic impulses. 

“…uh, that ice lady, I think.  From that Disney movie.”

“Wha – Alright, go to sleep, kid.  You’re speaking gibberish now.”

“Am not.  Not my fault you’re from the medieval era of some LARPER’s wet-dream.”

“Oh Maker, I don’t even want to know.” 

I was lucky Varric wrote me off as delirious, before my drunken mind decided to spew off dangerous topics, and not just dumb pop culture references that I couldn’t even properly remember.  Once he stopped engaging me in conversation, I fell asleep quickly, just like I always did after drinking by the boat load.

~

Varric’s words were true.  The date for sealing the Breach was set for the day after I woke up with a major hangover, and foggy memories of all the embarrassing moments from the night before.   
Varric wasn’t in when I finally got my ass out of bed, which I was glad of. 

Wandering around Haven was different now; way different from back in the beginning.  Mages were _everywhere_ , for one thing.  And you couldn’t walk two feet without running into another person.  We were probably almost at our max capacity for holding people in this relatively small area, though that wasn’t really saying much.  In any case, it was a bit nostalgic.  I hadn’t been anywhere this packed since Kirkwall.

“Hey, Fitz!”

A woman I vaguely recognized as a fellow scout waved me down.  She was standing among a group of other scouts, some whom I recognized and some I’d never seen before.  They were standing to the side of the gates, watching Cullen’s soldiers train a few yards away.

“’Sup?”  I nodded, joining them.  They let me into their little circle easily enough, before directing their attention back to the soldiers.  Some of them started giggling, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Commander Cullen just went off on them.  Apparently their sword work is _abysmal_.”  The woman who called out to me said, with a wide grin.  Suddenly, I recalled that her name was Hana, the woman I’d travelled with back at the Coast.  I could only assume that the scout-soldier beef was universal.

I looked out at the sea of training soldiers.  Cullen stood, watching over them as well, looking kind of fearsome with such a stern frown on his face.  “Fucking good,” I muttered.

“You got into it with one of them, didn’t you?”  The scout opposite me asked, sounding extremely gossipy.

“No, it was with two of ‘em, I heard.”  Another said, before they all looked at me for confirmation.  I gave them all a weird look.

“I got elbowed in the face, wasn’t much of a fight, if that’s what you wanna know.”

Hana nodded at them, and I remembered she was actually there when that went down, though I don’t think she actually _saw_ it happen.  “He had one nasty black eye, that’s for sure.”

Our group did some more grumbling about soldiers after that (it was very childish, I’m aware, but extremely satisfying to complain).  I noticed Cullen draw away from his soldiers, as one of his aides engaged him in what looked like a serious discussion.  I elbowed Hana, feeling rather impulsive after our bitching session.

“Yo, watch this,” I told them.  I muttered to myself real quick, in order to get the best imitation of Cullen’s voice, before cupping my hands around my mouth and suddenly pitching my voice to be heard across the yard.  “OI!  You there!  My grandma swings better than that!  Are you a soldier or not, man?!”

My voice was so like Cullen’s that half the yard jumped and looked around, all of them wondering if that (rather out of character) admonishment was directed at them.

My group dissolved into laughter, I think I even heard Bull and Krem laugh from where they were by their tents, a little ways away from where we were huddled.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”  Came the voice of the real Cullen.  He was storming over to us, too, which I think surprised all of us.  We scattered, and I had a vivid flashback of one of the times, back in Kirkwall, when I used to run with those other alienage elves.

I was laughing at I ran up the steps that led to the gates, and only slowed to a walk when I was a safe distance away.  I began heading to the tavern.  I figured I might as well see what Sera was up to.  And, if she wasn’t awake yet, I decided I’d just go looking for Amrita, unless she was busy (which was likely).  With that plan in mind, I took the stairs that ran past my cabin two at a time, in a good mood despite the lingering hangover, which I really wasn’t helping with all my antics.  I guess I was sort of used to headaches at the point, to be completely honest.

“Well, you look like _you’re_ up to no good.”

I grinned, seeing Varric standing near the campfire that was situated not too far from the tavern.  I strolled up to him, and told him, smugly, “Fuckin’ with soldiers.  Classic.”

He just looked at me with raised eyebrows, a book open in his hands.  “On your head be it.  Curly can be vicious these days.”

I shrugged, snickering.  “Yeah, he sounded pretty mad.  Whatchu up to?”  
“The usual.  Figured I’d try to get shit done, but that didn’t really work.  It’s not a big deal – oh, letter for you.”

I took the proffered envelope with only minimal hesitation, sighing in relief when I saw it was just from Merrill.  “Thanks.”

“Sure.  Maybe you sh–” Varric had that glint in his eye that told me he was about to try something, so I decided it was time to hightail it out of there.

“Well, gotta go.  See ya!”  I waved, practically running for the tavern.

When I burst through the door, I got some glares from a few patrons who never made it home the night before, though I ignored them easily enough.  I looked everywhere, but Sera wasn’t to be found.  So instead of killing myself trying to find the damn woman, I just left and headed for the Chantry.  I knew Amrita was most likely hanging around there, and I hoped to catch her when she’d have free time to hang out.  I just wanted to see her before she left for the Breach.

I had to walk within line of sight of Leliana, so I dutifully avoided any and all eye contact by refusing to so much as turn my head away from the Chantry door.  When I was finally in the clear, I almost deflated when I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Fitz.  I was hoping to run into you.”

My eyes almost bulged, and I jumped in the air when I heard that voice.  I turned my head slightly, seeing Solas walking down the Chantry corridor, towards me.

“Ah…hey, Solas.”  I said, sounding blatantly unenthused.  “Whatchu doin’ here?”

“Is it so odd to find me here?”  He asked, an edge of curiosity in his tone.

“Yeah,” I said back, blandly.

He frowned at me.  “May we talk?”

I looked around, spying Madame de Fer a few paces away.  She was probably listening.  There was a group of Chantry sisters murmuring to our right, but not nearly loud enough to drone us out.

“Here?”

“Of course not.  Let’s go to my cabin.”

I followed after him, feeling dejected all of a sudden.  Leave it to Solas to ruin a good mood.  My thoughts were harsher than he deserved, of course, but in that moment I couldn’t help but be a bit sulky.  I really didn’t want to have whatever conversation he was planning.

We were silent as we walked, and I noticed that quite a few people were giving the man weird looks as we passed by.  People scurried out of his way, and I wondered at how I hadn’t noticed such behavior before.

“Hey, Solas, are people scared of you?”  I asked, watching as a woman practically fell down trying to get out of our way.

“Hmm?  It would seem that way, wouldn’t it?”

I scowled at him for the dumb response, but didn’t say anything else.  We got to his cabin without scaring any more people, though we did get a curious look from Dorian, who was hanging out near the healer’s cabin.  I made a face at him, just to see what kind of unimpressed look I’d get out of him.  It was as dry as I’d hoped for.

Unlike the last time I visited Solas in his cabin, I threw myself right down into the chair, without even waiting for the man to offer it.  He pursed his lips a little bit, but didn’t say anything.  I stared up at him, totally unrepentant, while he simply walked over and proceeded to stand next to me.

“So, what’s up?”

Solas rifled around on his desk, and I leaned back since I was sitting basically right there.  It took him a second, which I think was just to annoy me, but he did eventually pull out what looked like a journal.  He made me sit there while he flipped through it, in silence, and I could only guess that he was looking at notes he’d made.  I was just sitting there, sprawled out in the chair and looking at the ceiling in boredom, when he finally spoke.

“I was thinking about your condition while you were away,” He began, putting the journal down in front of me.  My fingers itched to snatch it up, but even I wasn’t that rude.  “And I recalled some information I had learned from a few dwarves during my travels.”  When I just looked at him blankly, he sighed and clarified, “ _Orzammar_ - _born_ dwarves.”

I sat up a bit straight, realizing what he was saying.  “Oh, you mean, like, something to do with their resistance to magic?”  
“Quite.  Some of them spoke of it as a slow process, and a sometimes painful one.”  Solas looked away, in thought.  “Apparently, it can lead to pains, whether it be in one’s chest or head.  Some reports say that a dwarf’s immunity broke slowly, with only the strongest spells having any sort of effect.  Oftentimes, a dwarf’s natural resistance to magic would begin to deteriorate after only a few months on the surface, although other reports claim that it took years for that to happen.  It is all rather subjective.”

I couldn’t help it, I snorted.  A few years?  How about a decade?  I threw Solas an amused look, though I tried to reign it in so I wouldn’t look completely condescending.  “So, like…what of it?”

Irritation crept into Solas’ eyes as well as his tone, when he next spoke.  “Have you felt any odd pains?  Persisting headaches or any kind of tightness in your chest?  Or, as rare as it is, have you ever lost entire moments of time?

I paled at that.  It was too close to my blanking spells to be a coincidence.  “…you mean, like, blanking out?  Not asleep, but just…not realizing time went by until someone shakes ya outta it?”

Solas nodded, watching me carefully.  “I take it this has occurred.”  It wasn’t a question.

I half shrugged, looking away from him.  “Maybe.”

“It would be most beneficial if you gave me the clearest answers possible, rather than the careless ones you seem to prefer handing out.”

“Wow,” I said, glaring at the man.  “Pot and kettle, bro.”

Solas sighed, “You can be worse than Sera at times, I hope you are aware.”

“Fuckin’ good.”

The other elf turned away from me, as if he’d had enough of me.  I felt a little guilty then, after I replayed the disappointed look on his face in my head a few times. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?  That was rude of me,” I apologized, sincerely.  “I blank out sometimes.  Like, completely.”

Solas turned back towards me, hands collapsed behind his back while he seemed to be deep in thought.  “When did this first occur?”

“Uh…” I tried to think, I really did.  My memory was always hazy when it came to spur of the moment questions.  Finally, I found the answer.  “The Coast!  The day before you guys got there. That first time, I mean.”

“When we met with the Iron Bull?”

“Yeah!”  I exclaimed, proud of myself.

“Hmm.”  Solas began to slowly pace the room, and I watched him.  “Could you describe them for me?  How it feels.  How long these episodes last.”

“Well, sometimes they’re really short.  Sometimes they’re longer…like, to the point where people notice.”  I confided, a bit uncomfortably.  “And I don’t feel anything when they happen, but I always have a headache after it’s over, but I usually always have a headache anyways, so I dunno if that means much.”

“It’s better not to write anything off, at this point.”  Solas told me, still pacing.  “It could very well be that your resistance to magic is weakening.  If only we knew _how_ you got in this state to begin with.”

I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, but I was nervous, and when I’m nervous I talk, okay?  And I’m a sarcastic piece of shit, too.

“Haha…yeah…who knows,”

Solas looked at me sharply, taking my words and my tone for exactly what they were.  I cursed myself; I couldn’t have been more blatant.  I knew exactly why magic couldn’t touch me, and now he probably thought I knew as well.  Fuck.

“If…” He began, before deciding to go an alternate route.  “Fitz, you may feel free to speak, knowing that anything you say will be strictly for my ears only.  I will not betray your confidence.”

I looked at him, maybe feeling a bit jaded.  Yeah, sure, I can trust you.  All you gotta do is ask and all my inhibitions will simply fall away.  I think Solas thought me to be a whole lot less world-weary than I actually was, back then. 

“Nah, haven’t a clue.”  Of course, he didn’t look convinced.  He didn’t press though, and that’s all I can say.

“Yes, well.”  Solas had finally stopped pacing, had actually stopped in order to properly stare me down a few seconds ago.  Like always, he looked to be in deep thought.

“I suppose that’s all we can say.  For now.”  He said, with a sigh.  “I will continue to think on this matter, of course, though it would help immensely if you were to be honest with me.”

I gritted my teeth at the jab.  “I’m bein’ honest, alright?  I ain’t got a clue.  I was just born immune, I guess.”

Solas looked at me, expression closed off; I couldn’t read it at all.  “Born immune to magic?  What an absurd concept.”

“It’s true.” I said, coming off very obstinate.  “Even when I was a kid.  All my life, man.”

Without warning, Solas directed a spell right at me.  Point-blank.  I flinched, even though I knew damn well that it’d do jackshit to me.  As it was, the spell broke before it even hit my clothes.

It was an ice spell, and not even a fleck of frost covered my shirt, where it should have landed.

“Interesting,” Solas breathed, looking very much in awe, or as in awe as that man could let his perpetually passive features mold into.  “It doesn’t even affect your clothing!  It’s like you… _radiate_ your immunity.  It clings to you in a shroud of mist.”

“Ugh, gross.  Poetics.”  I let slip involuntarily.  “But, yeah.  It’s always been like that.”

“What of your scars?”

I twitched at the random question being thrown at me so suddenly; so out of nowhere.  I looked at Solas with wide eyes.

“W-what?”

“Forgive me if the topic is…uncomfortable.  I simply wish to know how they are related to your condition.”

Basically, he was saying he wants to know what Marcella’s ministrations had to do with attempting to make magic work on me.  I couldn’t give him a good answer.  I’d forgotten, or repressed, most of those memories, and I didn’t appreciate the reminder of them.  I didn’t care to go digging for them, either.  I tried to be a good sport though.  Solas didn’t mean any harm by it; he was just trying to understand.  I knew he was trying to help me; he was trying to get to the bottom of my condition, even though it was probably a fruitless effort.  My condition was irrevocably tied to my other-worldly nature (it had to be), and that was something he most definitely _wasn’t_ going to find out.

“I…I dunno.  Not really.  She…uh, the mage who had me, I mean,” I coughed, purely out of awkwardness, before going on.  “She tried to, like…cut the magic into me?  Man, I didn’t really know what was goin’ on back then.  All I remember is a fuckin’ cult circle, and a blade that was supposed to be imbued with magic, or some shit like that, ya know?  Crazy shit.”  I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran down my back, despite the fact that those memories were nigh on ten years old by now.  It made me feel sixteen all over again.

“But she was high on blood magic the entire time,” I shrugged.  “so, it was torture more than any actual attempts to…experiment, ya know?”

Solas was grim, had that look on his face the entire time I was talking, and when I was done, he nodded slowly.  He didn’t say anything, not even an “I’m sorry”, and he didn’t ask for more, so I was pretty grateful.  It was a hard thing to talk about, and I wanted it over without it becoming a _conversation_ , you know?  It didn’t, so that’s all that matters.

~

The next day was mad hectic.  Amrita left early for the Breach.  I didn’t join, and she didn’t ask me to.  I think she still felt bad about Redcliffe, and she knew about my ‘fear’ of magic (which apparently _everyone_ knew, thanks Krem), so she didn’t so much as offer me a spot on the trip to the Breach.  Instead, I stayed at Haven, along with a few others.  For the most part, everyone wanted to go see the Breach be sealed once and for all.  Even Sera went, though I think she mostly just wanted to make sure Amrita was okay.

I did get to speak with Amrita the night before.  She was nervous, as anyone else would be, and she didn’t really want to talk about the Breach all that much.  I couldn’t blame her.  I’m sure her advisors over-exhausted the topic; her own mind probably did as well.  We talked about nicer things, like my time at Dusklight camp and what dragons were like.  Amrita was very interested to hear about them, and she even confessed to being impressed with the amount of research items I’d sent their way from my work over there. 

We skirted around the topic of Redcliffe. I don’t think either of us really wanted to talk about it.  Amrita was probably trying to forget what she’d seen, and my reasons are, of course, self-evident.  However, I was sorry about how she felt over my death in that time-line she’d experienced.  She clearly had more on her mind about it than she’d let on, but I wasn’t about to ask (even if I was slightly curious…and a bit nervous).  She’d talk about it when she was ready; she was just that type of person.  And I’d listen, even if I heard things that scared me.

We’d grown close, as I’m sure you know by now.  Amrita was the kind of person who didn’t really hold back; she was polite, sure, and she was emotional, but it wasn’t in her to swallow her emotions and refuse to make them known.  She wasn’t like me.  And quite honestly, out of everyone, I wanted to tell her the most.  About the truth, about me, about Hawke, about _everything_.  And I had a feeling she’d just sit there and listen, and maybe freak out, but, ultimately, she’d understand, and my gut told me that she’d believe me, too.  It was crazy to say, hell, it was crazy to even think.

I’d gone through this whole world, the last ten years, _knowing_ , right down to my core, that nobody would ever believe some kid who said he fell through a gap between worlds.  Nobody would believe it if someone said they came from a whole nother planet, it’s too fucking insane.  And I know I write a lot about this shit, but it’s my insecurities, goddammit, and I couldn’t shake them.  So, bear with me, while I just get this off my chest once more.  Probably not for the last time, either.

Imagine meeting someone who, for all intents and purposes, has gone through nearly the same shit as you (or, as close as it can get to being the same, given the circumstances).  It’s like an immediate kinship, right?  Amrita was the sister I’d never had, and I had a feeling she thought of me as a brother as well.  Anybody with siblings (in blood or in the heart, it doesn’t matter) know what it’s like, to have someone you can trust through thick and thin.  Someone you can tell anything to and not feel judgment; someone who you are _supposed_ to unload your burdens on, because it is in their very being to take your burdens and help you through them.  And what makes it greater is that none of that is even a bad thing.  I knew Amrita would take my words and, even if I hurt her, whether it be by leaving or whatever, she would bear my confessions as well as she possibly could.

It goes beyond all reason, and maybe I’m not making much sense, but I’m trying, because then there’s Hawke.  If I had met him, just a few years later or simply in different circumstances, maybe it’d all be different.  Maybe I’d feel the same way with him as I do with Amrita, but as it is, I cannot stomach the idea of telling him everything. 

I hurt him once already, more than once actually; by all the lying, and then when I left Kirkwall.  Hurt him again, probably, when I refused to write him, because I knew damn well that _he_ _knew_ I had every opportunity to reach out. 

Because, fuck.  If I told Hawke everything, and if he believed me and, shit, if he _forgave_ me, there’s not a chance in hell that I’d be able to go home. 

And I wasn’t ready to give that up yet, regardless of the fact that I had zero leads on finding a way out of Thedas as of that moment.  I still had to try, but I don’t think I’d have the heart to do so if I told Hawke everything.  It was conflicting as fuck and, trust me, I thought about it a lot.  But, leaving would mean that I chose something else over Hawke.  And, if I’m being real right now, all my reasons for leaving Hawke came down to my total and utter fear of confrontation.  I’d rather avoid my problems until they were gone, or at least until I could just forget them.  It’s a problem I’ve always had, and I know it’s not healthy, but it works for me; for now, at least.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I couldn’t tell Hawke, because I didn’t want to think about Hawke.  I didn’t want to think about how much I hurt him, because I did a lot of shitty things (even before I left him), and I guess I just think he doesn’t deserve me leaving him once more. 

My relationship with Hawke wasn’t anything like the one I had with Amrita, once you got past the basics.  Hawke made me feel lost, and just so fucking crazy.  I had no way of explaining it, except that my feelings for him made no sense.  The fact that those feelings hadn’t lessened in the slightest during the past couple years is just another thing that drove me crazy. 

I didn’t mean to wax poetic about feelings and emotional bullshit, if any of it is even half-way coherent.  I guess I just felt like I had to explain, since it seems like I’ll never be able to talk about this shit outside of this journal.  Maybe if Hawke ever reads it, he’ll get it.

The Breach, though, to go back to it abruptly. 

You can probably guess what happened when Amrita finally sealed it.  I passed out, of course.

Luckily, me and Solas had actually bet on this happening, after we factored in the events of Redcliffe.  Big (ie: fucking huge) surges of magic and me weren’t doing so well right now.  Simplest conclusion was that sealing the Breach would probably be massive enough to make me pass out once again.

So, when I did pass out, it was in Solas’ cabin, and while he wasn’t there to watch over me, we both knew I’d be fine once I woke up.  Which I did; wake up, I mean. 

Solas shook me awake from where I was lying in a heap on his floor, and gave me some water to help reorient myself.  From the excessive amounts of cheering going on outside, I could tell that Amrita and the mages had been successful. 

“Do you feel alright?”  Solas asked, looking curious, as well as concerned.

“Yeah,” I rasped.  “Time to party, then, eh?”

Solas smiled in that typical small way of his.  “I believe they’ve started without you.  I suggest you hurry before Sera and Bull drink all the alcohol.”

“Shit yeah, no way am I letting that happen!”

~

Of course, luck is luck.  So, it was as soon as I took one step out of Solas’ cabin, that it all went to absolute shit.

“Go to the Chantry!”  Solas shouted at me, nearly running into my back as he too became aware of the commotion outside.  Everybody was shouting, and running; the festivity gone and replaced by fear and panic.  When I just stood there, frozen, Solas gave me a rough push.

“Go!  Now!”

I finally started running, following the flow of people also heading for the Chantry.  People stood at the doors, waving madly for us all to get in.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how all this could have happened so suddenly.  I looked around the room, and while I could see that nobody was injured, the panic was still very real.  I overheard snippets of conversation; something about an army, and dread filled my very soul.  Not to be melodramatic, or anything.

It felt so long, the waiting.  I knew just from looking that not all of Haven had made it to the Chantry yet, and we weren’t hearing _anything_ about what was happening outside.  I think people were scared to ask.  I think I kind of was, too.

I jumped up from where I’d been leaning against one of the many pillars that lined the hall when I saw none other than Hana enter through the front doors, along with a handful of others.  I ran to her, pretty much demanding her attention.

“What’s happening?” I asked urgently, though I had to wait for her to catch her breath.

“Enemies…an entire army…” She panted.  “The Herald is at the trebuchets now, they’re hoping to cut them off, but it’s…”  Hana trailed off, looking around in terror, and I could tell she was seconds away from going into shock.  I led her over to one of the Chantry sisters, who quickly took her under her wing.

I turned back, heading to the front doors.  I was ready to go join Amrita, but just then another wave of Haven residents came through the doors.  And this time around, some of them were hurt.  I couldn’t leave then, just because there weren’t enough healers in the freaking building, and people needed bandaging. 

Each time a new group would burst through the doors, a whiff of smoke would accompany them and screams would also follow.  I could only imagine how bad it was getting, but I couldn’t help hoping that Amrita would fall through the doors soon.  And Varric.  And Sera.  And, god, all of them.

Amrita was last to arrive.  I swear, I watched the entirety of Haven run through the Chantry doors before it was finally Amrita and her companions who came through.  I abandoned my post, with little regret seeing as there were now more than enough people able to care for the injured, and ran to meet them.

I was at Amrita’s side in the very next second and she put a hand on my shoulder, relief evident on her face.  I was certain that Solas told her I was safe, since he’d arrived with her.  Though, to be fair, it was a pretty crazy night, and worrying was rampant.

The Inquisition’s leaders quickly demanded Amrita’s attention, and I knew it was time for her to be the Herald again.  I followed, shamelessly listening in and ignoring the sharp glance thrown my way via the Inquisition spymaster.

I know I don’t usually listen all that well, and I zone out regularly, but I tried my damnedest this time to pay attention.  I didn’t like what I heard, but I still fucking listened.

Some fucker and a dragon, and a legion of fucked up Templars, were attacking.  I might’ve been the last person to find this out, but fuck.  This would be hard to get out of, and I think the others were thinking it as well.  It was all doom and gloom (and how about some more doom?) with these people and it was seriously affecting me.  I felt totally wired. 

I exchanged glances with Varric, and all he did was shake his head, solemnly, at me.  I don’t know if he (or any of the others, for that matter) thought that we were all going to die with Haven that night.  I never asked.  But, it’s probably likely that everybody thought we were.  The bastards had us pretty well cornered.

That is, until some guy, one of the ponce-y Chantry types, spoke up.  The man, middle-aged by my guess, was being helped by some gaunt-looking kid because he was injured, and pretty much bleeding out in the kid’s arms.  Anyways, the guy told us about a secret passage that would make it so we could evacuate.  I didn’t like it.  I mean, I liked the secret passage thing!  Just not the part that came after. 

It was decided that Amrita would buy us some time by setting off one final trebuchet in the direction of the mountainside, effectively snowing Haven in.  Probably forever. 

They didn’t waste any time evacuating, and I watched as the hall began to empty while I just stood there with Amrita and her companions.  None of them left; the companions Amrita was always bringing on her quests.  I couldn’t help but like them a little more for it, even though I didn’t know all of them that well.

“Scholar, do you think,” Varric interrupted my thoughts, tugging at my sleeve.  I didn’t even have armor on.  “You think you could go follow them? You know, get to safety?” 

Varric didn’t sound even remotely hopeful that I’d listen to him.  I guess he just felt like he had to at least try.  He didn’t need a vocal answer, either.  He just took one look at me and shook his head, releasing my sleeve.  He brought his hand back up to give me a solid pat on the back, and opened his mouth to say one more thing, but he never got the chance.  Our brief moment was broken by Amrita’s next words, which drew the immediate attention of our entire company. 

“Will you follow me, one last time?” Amrita asked, though her voice came out shaky.  “Sera, Varric, Blackwall.  Will you cover me, at least until I get to the trebuchet?”

The three of them gave their assent; Sera unusually quiet and somber, she looked like she was holding back tears.  Amrita ordered the others to proceed with evacuation, and then she turned around like she was completely ready to meet death.  She believed this would be her last fight.

She hadn’t asked for me, but I tagged along anyways.  Nobody said anything though.  I mean, what was the point, right?

~

“Scholar!  What are you _doing_?”

I ignored Varric’s shouts that were ordering me to come back, and I practically had to drop into a roll to avoid Blackwall, when the guy reached one massive arm out in an attempt to grab me.  Luckily, I’m pretty fast.

We were supposed to accompany Amrita to the trebuchet, and then get lost.  But, I wasn’t about that, so I said screw it.  It was impulsive, on my part, but I couldn’t let Amrita face death alone.  It wasn’t fair. 

I felt guilty, too, because I couldn’t stop the quiet excitement that was coursing through my veins, and it was rooted in reasons I definitely didn't want to think about; not ever, and especially not as I followed Amrita to what I thought would be the end.

Varric would’ve ran after me.  Maybe the others would’ve, too.  But, thankfully, they weren’t given the chance. 

A massive dragon, bigger than the one I’d seen in the Hinterlands, flew over us, spewing fire everywhere.  I had to leap forward to avoid the hit and, afterwards, I was only dimly aware of Varric screaming my name. 

I didn’t end up avoiding the fire.  Not completely.  The snow pile I fell in got rid of the worst of it, I think, but I still wasn’t okay.

I faded out, embarrassingly enough.  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t passed out or nothing; I simply had another fucking blank-out at the most inopportune time in the history of forever.  And, so, because of that, I didn’t hear or see Amrita’s confrontation with the fucker who started all this, though I ended up hearing enough about it later on.

Instead, I lay prone, in the snow, covered in what were probably third-degree burns and without the ability to so much as think, let alone move.  Meanwhile, Amrita was quite busy; she got thrown around by an ugly motherfucker, _talked_ _back_ to said motherfucker, and set off the last trebuchet that had the bastard running away with his ugly dragon in tow.  All in that order.

Then, as if she hadn’t done enough, Amrita saved me as well.  She said it was pure luck, because she hadn’t thought she’d be able to reach me in time, but she did, so that’s all that matters.

And then, we were falling, and we both passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA bet you guys didnt expect me to update this soon! (iii didnt expect it either tbh) /(@O@)\  
> thanks for reading and everything! <3 :))


	38. Act II: Let's Chill (Not That Kind Of Chill)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there's talk about death & dying, but not necessarily suicide //just wanna throw that out there, just in case!

“To the _Void_ with you!”

I woke to the sounds of fighting, and a rare bout of Amrita’s cursing.

I tried to move, spurred on by the chaos, only to regret it immediately.  Simply attempting to stand, as slight as my movement was, sent wave after wave of pain running throughout my entire body.  I couldn’t even gasp out loud; the pain had zapped my ability to even speak. 

“Fitz! Do. Not. Move!” Amrita shouted from somewhere in the midst of all the fighting, her voice clearly panicked.  “You’re hurt!  Just stay there!”

I opened my eyes, hadn’t even realized they were still closed, and tried to look for her.  I could move my head, kind of, and when I angled my attention towards where Amrita’s voice had come from, I was horrified to see that there were multiple demons surrounding us. 

We were in a cave, there was no mistaking that part, even though I was lying on a broken-down bit of what used to be a wooden walkway.  Demons were swarming around Amrita, damn near mobbing her.  Predictably, the fucking things didn’t pay me any attention whatsoever.  I watched as Amrita would hit some of them with a stunning spell, then go offense on the others, and repeat.  She had to be exhausted, and she wouldn’t be able to keep that cycle up for long, I knew that much.

Putting off standing, just for a second longer, I reached a hand down to my belt and sighed in relief when I felt my dagger, the one I’d always had, still attached to it.  Pulling it out, I gripped it tight, concentrating on _keeping_ my grip; simply because my hands were so shaky from the pain.  Thankfully, my palms were spared the injury, which helped a lot when it came to holding a fucking dagger.

Burns stretched over the back of my fingers, and went all the way up my arms and to my shoulders; basically, there were burns all over my upper body.  It was kind of gruesome, but I knew I had to ignore whatever state my body was in at the moment.  I couldn’t just lie there.

I really don’t know how I fucking did it, but I got myself up somehow.  I jumped into the fray and just let the monotony of stabbing the heck out of those demons take over.  I usually tried to avoid dealing with demons directly, when I was with other people, but my reservations had no place here.  There was no way around it; Amrita would just have to see how odd this fight was about to get, and I literally couldn’t care less (mostly because I really wasn’t thinking about much outside of the pain I was in and the need to get rid of these stupid demons). 

Even when I’d get a good hit on them, the damned things took no notice of me.  They simply began to panic, as they were attacked by what they thought was an invisible enemy.  They couldn’t hit me at all, even in that panicked state; because it was like my body, my very being, _repelled_ them.  Much like how magic reacted, when it came in contact to me.  I didn’t look to see Amrita’s expression.  I knew she had to be seeing this, but it was all I could do just to stay focused on ending the fight.  As I gutted one of the demons, Amrita’s arm lifted and spouted out… _something_.  I didn’t know what to even make of it at first, it was weird.  I couldn’t help but think, dimly, that it looked eerily similar to a rift.

I dropped my dagger; the purple hilt sinking into demon goop, but I couldn’t reach for it even if I tried.  I fell over, in a heap of pain and agony.  I thought I was dying, to put it bluntly. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Amrita swore, vehemently, as she dropped to my side once the last demon disintegrated in thin air, which was actually pretty cool to see.  “I told you not to move.”

“Had to.  Yo–”

“Shh, don’t.  Do you even realize how bad it is?” Amrita sounded close to tears, or maybe she was already crying.  I couldn’t tell.  “Fitz, the burns…they’re not healing.”

“I’ve been trying, I promise.  I think…I think the fire, from the dragon – the archdemon?  I – I don’t think it can be healed by my skill.”

“Nah,” I breathed, almost laughing.  “’S not work on me…magic.”

“What?”

“Magic doesn’t work on me,” I strained to make myself understandable, even though I was more prone to slurring at this point.  “Immune.”

Amrita looked down at me, and I met her eyes.  She stared, maybe for a split second, but then she was nodding.

“I’ll try again anyways.”

“No, don’t waste it,” I tried to lift a hand, but she batted it away, albeit gently.  “Gotta save yer energy.”

“Hush,” Amrita muttered, already concentrating on healing me.  If I could have, I would’ve groaned.  Instead, I closed my eyes, lacking the energy to fight.

There were a few moments of silence, and I might’ve zoned out (who knows, my concept of time was very off down there), but I came back to the sounds of Amrita’s feverish laughter.

“It’s working!” 

Even as she spoke, I felt warmth spread over my chest.  It was a warmth that quickly killed the slight tremors I’d been feeling; the cold that had been slowly spreading throughout my body was likewise culled.  I gasped, when I looked down and saw a large burn on my chest go from sickening to…less sickening.  My burns didn’t heal completely, some of them didn’t even heal half-way (and a few didn’t seem to change whatsoever), but Amrita at least got the worst of injuries to a point where they weren’t oozing and gaping too badly.  A large amount of the pain I’d been feeling left me, and soon I was able to sit up, though stiffly.

“Shit,” I breathed, still looking down at my body which, while still littered with burns, no longer looked grotesque or…melted.  “ _No_ _fuckin’_ _way_.”

Amrita stopped suddenly, falling back against the same tall rock I’d unwittingly fell against when I’d downed that last demon.  She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were closed.

“You’ve over done it,” I said, a bit regretfully, just because I was still so relieved over the lack of pain wracking my body, even though I couldn’t quite believe that her magic actually worked on me.

“Worth it,” she muttered, fiddling with her coat.  She took the thing off; it was charred, torn, and, ultimately, it looked like it’d been through the wringer.  She started ripping it even more, though I don’t think she really knew what she was doing by this point. 

“We have to…bandages.”  She was passing out, and I let her.  Probably best to let her rest up.  While she slept, I made bandages out of the already ruined coat Amrita had obviously been attempting to give me.  The material was rough, and did _not_ feel good again my burns, but I was able to ignore it, sort of.

Unfortunately, she didn’t rest for long.  Equally as exhausted, I’d been dozing next to her, when she suddenly bolted up right.

“We have to go!”  She struggled to stand, but since she was still close to exhaustion, she stumbled.

I had a slightly easier time standing, so I steadied her without much trouble.  “Shouldn’t you, like, rest?”

“No!  The others, they’re probably moving on…if we don’t catch up…” Amrita bit her lip at the thought, and I nodded, even though I still didn’t think it was as dire as she did.

“Okay, uh, let’s go.  Down that hall, then?”  I said, pointing ahead of us.

“Yes…but first,” she started, hesitantly.  She looked at me significantly, and her expression turned deadpan when all I did was stare at her.  “Fitz, you’re practically naked.”

“ _Wha_ –?”  I looked down, slightly shocked to find her words to be true.  I’d completely forgotten; actually, I don’t think I ever realized my shirt was gone, even when I’d bandaged myself up.  Literally all I had covering my chest were the makeshift coat-bandages.  My pants were tattered, and they covered me in a decent manner, but not enough for the arctic weather surrounding us.  The best coverage I had on were my boots, and even they had new holes in them.  I must’ve really been out of it, if I hadn’t even been able to feel the cold like this.  We were in a fucking ice cave, for crying out loud.

“Aw, you bought me that tunic,” I couldn’t help but whine when I remembered that small fact.  I really liked that shirt.

Amrita huffed out a small laugh, “Once we reach civilization again, I’ll buy you ten tunics.”

“Awesome.  No take-backs.”  I said, in mock seriousness.  “Well then.  First things first!  Clothes!” 

I immediately began looking for chests and the like around the small area we were in.  It looked as though someone had once turned this section of the cave into a passageway, or a holding room of some type, and it had gone into major disuse.  Honestly, it looked like the cave was attempting to reclaim what was once its pure nature.  The place was ancient, too, and probably hadn’t seen human life in centuries either, but I still looked anyway.  I told Amrita to do so as well, since she’d probably need extra clothing as well.  We were about to go trekking it through the Frostbacks, after all.

I nearly cheered when I hit the jackpot.  Rocks, big and small, littered the ground in every which way, so I had to shift some of them around just so that I could go about my search.  It was annoying, but I eventually found a broken chest, nestled in a corner under a lot of debris.  As luck would have it, the thing was full to the brim with not only clothing but knickknacks, and even some gold.  I threw on a slightly too-small tunic that was musty as hell, and pants that were likewise too short.  I found socks though, that reached up high, so at least I wouldn’t have any exposed skin.  This must’ve been an emergency trunk at some point, because I even found some vials that had long since broken and lost their contents. 

I found cloaks as well, one of which I tossed over to Amrita.  She thanked me, a bit begrudgingly (because I hadn’t warned her whatsoever, and the heavy cloth landed right on her head in a cloud of rock-dust). She pulled it around her shoulders, and didn’t even tell me off. 

“Here, I think these might fit you,” she said, as she came over with a pair of boots.  They had marginally less holes than the ones I currently wore, which was better than nothing.  I tugged them on gingerly, and it was a bit of a fight, but I made it work.

“Cool, we good then?”  I asked, still wondering if we’d looked everywhere in the room. 

“Yes, I believe that’s the best we’re going to get,” she replied, with a sigh, and began to walk over to the doorway I’d pointed at before we began our search through the cave’s lost and found.  Amrita stumbled on the way and I watched grimly as she clung to the doorway for support.

“You should rest more,” I started to say, frowning.  She didn’t let me go on.

“No, we need to go,” she stated firmly, righting herself.  She walked out the door, forcing me to trail after her.

It was more like a tunnel than a proper hallway.  It was dark, too, but Amrita’s mark was glowing up enough that we didn’t even have to look for a torch.  I side-eyed the thing, a bit worriedly. 

“So, uh…it supposed to be doin’ that?”

Amrita bit her lip.  “Corypheus did something to it…he changed it somehow.”

Amrita didn’t seem all that psyched to talk about it, so I let it drop.  Unfortunately, that meant I gave Amrita room to change the topic.

“Fitz, I must ask…” She trailed off, not quite looking at me.  “Did you want to die?”

“Fuckin’ _what_?”  I sputtered.  I tripped over my own two feet, which hurt as I tried to save myself from falling.  My burns didn’t like quick, or sharp, movements; otherwise, I could ignore them well enough. 

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, waving her unmarked hand in further apology.  “It’s just…you _knew_ I expected to die in the avalanche.  We had no way of knowing we’d survive that.  And yet, you followed me.  Why would you do that?”

I looked away from her.  I could tell that she was thinking back to Redcliffe, and the fact that, in another time-line, I took my own life.  So, I guess I couldn’t really blame her for asking me that.  My real problem laid with my answer.  It was uncomfortable to think about.

“Uh, maybe?  I dunno.”  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Amrita shake her head.

“It’s a simple yes or no question.  You can’t evade this one as well.”

Trying not to snap at her, I focused on my phrasing.  This was one of those times where my wishy-washy answers were true.

“I’m not…that is a real answer.  I try not to think about, uh, _dying_ a lot, but, I guess, sometimes I get to thinking that I wouldn’t mind it.  Like, it wouldn’t be so bad, you know?”

I watched her nod and sigh.  “I’ve thought that as well.”

That admittance caught me off guard.  “What d’ya mean?

“I suppose…after a while, death begins to looks like a quiet solution.  A time to finally rest, to have some peace at last.”  I didn’t like how wistful she sounded saying those words, but I definitely got what she was saying.  And I related.

“Yeah…”

“But, Fitz,” Amrita suddenly turned to me, grabbing my arm, unmindful of the burn she was gripping.  I bore it dutifully, though (ie: with only minimal cringing).  “I don’t want to die, not really.”  She looked into my eyes, and I thought about how I’d never seen her so angry.

“I want _revenge_.”

“Oh, well…that sounds healthy.”

She gave me the stink-eye, releasing my arm as she began to walk once more.  I could see the end of the tunnel, not too far ahead.  It led right out to the side of the mountain; we could already feel the biting wind that poured through the wide opening.  Amrita must’ve noticed it as well, but she focused on chastising me instead.

“Must you?  I simply mean…I want to be with the Inquisition still.  I want to help them, stop Corypheus’ plans, whatever they may be.  I don’t want any more people to die.”

She had tears in her eyes, most likely thinking about all the people who perished with Haven.  Granted, many had been saved, but Amrita was the type to mourn one person’s death as if it had been twenty.  I pretended not to notice.

“Cool.  I think that’s great.”  My words fell flat, not really connecting well with the poetic weight of her previous statements.  We endured a slightly awkward silence before Amrita decided to break it.  We’d reached the end of the tunnel, the wind whistling around us as we stared out at the dark sky, and at the white expanse of hills that lay before us.  Neither of us made a move to step out of the slight protection afforded to us by the cave.  I looked at Amrita, waiting for her to make the first move, but she was deep in thought.  I stood there, allowing her the time to think; my gut told me she was about to ask something, and it was right

“What did you mean,” she began, turning to face me head-on.  “When you said magic doesn’t work on you?”

I shrugged, cringing a bit.  I’d been trying to forget that she sort of _knew_ now.  I probably could’ve played it off as a delusional statement spawned from my pain-addled brain, but I just felt like it was time to tell her.  Might as well.  I mean, I already knew she noticed how the demons completely disregarded me back there, even if she hadn’t said it in so many words.  And, then there was her own magic.  She knew it should’ve worked better than it had.  Even if I told her I didn’t know what I was saying back there, the fact that her magic failed on me would not leave her mind; not until she found out _why_.  And, to be honest, I was still shocked it even worked in the first place.  Made me nervous, too, but I was trying not to think about it, just like I was trying not to think about the wounds that were still festering across my body.  I wasn’t looking forward to hiking while in pain, though I’d take that over impromptu magic discussions any day.

“Where I’m from…everyone is immune to magic.  It’s just natural, like it is with the dwarves in Orzammar.”  I paused.  I didn’t want to get into the whole other-world thing quite yet.  I kind of wanted to tell her, eventually, but I knew that it’d be best to wait for when we’re both feeling more stable than we currently do.  “I dunno why though, so don’t ask.”

“Solas knows.”

I jerked to the side in surprise.  “Wha – how’d you call that?”

She gave me a dry look.  “He tried to heal you in Redcliffe, did he not?  When you fainted.”

“Okay, I passed out.  I didn’t _faint_.”

Amrita scoffed, and then laughed.  “It was a faint, plain and simple.  We’ll ask Cassandra and Vivienne when we see them.”  She took a step forward, finally, and I followed.

“Yeah, and they’ll totally say I passed out.  Duh.”

I couldn’t stop the grin from forming on my face.  I was glad Amrita decided to play along, even though it was lame, but I needed to know if her finding out about my magic-thing changed anything.  I don’t think it did, but we’d still have to talk more.  When we’re not trying to find a horde of refugees in the middle of a blighted snowstorm, that is.

A few minutes, or more, later found me shivering and cursing the cold to hell and back.

“Fuck!  We in fuckin’ Antarctica or what?”

“Ant-arta – what?”  Amrita shouted back at me, leaning in closer, even though we were already shoulder to shoulder.  The wind was killer, and it made actual _sound_ as it whipped around us.

“I said, Anderfals!”

Amrita would’ve elbowed me, if she had the energy.  “That doesn’t even sound remotely close to –” A big gust of wind rudely cut her off, and we both had to pause so that we wouldn’t be blown over. 

We didn’t talk much after that.  We had to focus on walking.  And on watching, because we still had yet to find any signs of people.  It was discouraging, simply because we didn’t want to freeze to death out here.

I don’t know how long we were out there, but it felt like forever.  Amrita didn’t last long either.  She was already exhausted to the point of dropping, and that was before we’d even left the cave.  It started with her leaning against me, and then it was me holding her up as she struggled to keep walking.  She refused my offer to carry her, even though we both knew she was fighting a losing battle.  It wasn’t long before she actually did fall down, and I didn’t give her a choice after that. 

She protested, but not much.  She knew her limits damn well, and she could tell when she was close to passing out.  I lifted her on my back, her arms wrapped securely around my neck.  Well, they were secure in the beginning, when she still had the strength. 

We walked like that for a while, though I really can’t say how long.  It was long enough though, that’s for sure.

~

“’Rita, look,” I couldn’t get my voice to go higher than a rough whisper, my vocal cords tied from the chill that went deeper than bone and the dehydration that was most likely setting in.  We’d been walking for what felt like forever, and when Amrita stopped talking, I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of stopping to melt some fucking snow just because I was thirsty.  Not when we’d finally begun to pass some recent campfires.  “…embers are still warm, can ya believe that?  The fire must’ve jus’ went out,”

Amrita didn’t answer, and I knew she wasn’t awake, but I ignored it.  I pulled out of the crouch I’d been in, accidentally kicking some snow into the firepit I’d been investigating, and I prepared myself to carry Amrita’s weight once more.  I had an arm underneath each knee and when I was standing, her head rested on my shoulder.  The wind sent loose strands of Amrita’s hair flying around, and they would occasionally hit me in the face.  The tail of her braid had snuck out from the cloth I’d carefully wrapped around her face, to limit her exposure to the wind and the cold.  I’d lost the feeling in my limbs a while back, which included the pain from my burns.  I wasn’t too worried, even though I probably should’ve been.  I didn’t really have the energy to worry.

I told her that we’d almost caught up, and even though the wind was loud and Amrita wasn’t awake, I pretended she could hear me anyways.  I probably should’ve just shut up, conserve energy and all that jazz, but it felt like the only way I could keep going, without going crazy.  Focusing on walking and forcing my vocal cords to work made it so that I didn’t have it in me to think about the very scary, very real prospect that both me and Amrita were going to die out there in this blizzard from hell in the ass-end of the Frostbacks. 

I thought I’d imagined it the first time I heard a shout, but then I noticed a light in the distance, and figures moving towards us.  We’d made it to a point where there were some big rocks on either side of us.  The wind still hurt, but at least we had some covering.  Made it slightly easier to hear, too.  All I could hope was that we weren’t about to be ambushed by enemies, because, honestly, all I’d have been able to do is fall and pass out on them, and that definitely wouldn’t have resulted in a win.

“Well, ‘Rita,” I said, squinting at the figures in the distance, realizing that they were most definitely moving towards us.  I took a shaky step forward through the high snow, fighting to stay upright.  “…think it’s your ‘quisition?  The one on the right looks like a bear…polar…bear?”

I stumbled when my foot didn’t break through the snow as easily as before; my strength was giving up on me, to the point where my legs couldn’t trudge through the multiple feet of snow.  It didn’t matter though; the people weren’t so distant anymore.  I could make out the figure of Cullen, whom I had begun to worry was a bear not even a few seconds ago, as well as that of Cassandra, and they were calling both our names.  Bears and evil people don’t know our first names.

I didn’t fall, though I did stop walking.  One of the others would soon take Amrita from my back and they’d be able to carry her much more safely than I could.  I was seconds away from dropping her in the snow, and I didn’t think that would do much good for her already shoddy health.

“Yo,” I called out weakly, once Cassandra was only a few feet away.  “Please…don’t be bears…”

Next thing I knew, Cassandra was pulling Amrita off of me, shouldering her in a fireman’s carry.  She held out her free arm to hold me upright, as I had begun to sink down once Amrita was safely off my back.  “...tz?...Fitz?  Can you hear me?”

I shook my head, trying to get back in the moment.  I’d zoned out as soon as Cassandra had taken Amrita from me.  I was just so relieved.  And tired.

“…Sorry,” I muttered, not really seeing her motion for Cullen to grab me.  I didn’t say anything when he pulled me up, wrapping one of my arms around his shoulders while he did the same to me.  I sank my fingers into the furry part of his clothing, idly wondering what the hell it was called.  “…nob’dy expects the ‘quistion,” I coughed out a laugh, and it was a bit painful.  “Get it?”

“He’s delirious.  They both need the healers as soon as possible,” one of them said.  I would’ve commented on how true that was, while adding that the former statement was also rude, but my vocal cords seemed to have finally given up on me.  I was effectively and forcibly shut up.  Praise the day.

I really had to give it to Cullen.  I was basically as limp as a fucking noodle as we trudged back to wherever the hell the Inquisition had decided to make camp.  I made the poor man pretty much carry all six feet of me through the snow and wind, but I physically couldn’t make myself exert anymore energy.  I patted his fur as an apology, though I’m not quite sure he noticed.

I barely remember stumbling back into camp.  I vaguely recall hearing gasps, and some ‘Thank the Maker!’s thrown in there, and maybe even some cheering, but the overall feeling of camp was quiet.  Even in my delirious state, I noticed how oddly quiet it all was, considering how many people were there.  To me, it looked like a good fraction of Haven had made it out alive, but I also wasn’t really in the right mind at that point in time.  I didn’t actually make the connection that, if everybody in Haven had survived, the camp would’ve been much bigger.

“Scholar!”  Varric broke through the crowd, running up to us even as Cullen and Cassandra kept going; making no delay in taking us to the healer’s tent.  “Is he okay?”

“He needs a healer, _now_.  They both do.” Cullen gritted out, solemnly, while I continued to idly play with his fur.  Looking back, maybe I only _thought_ I was playing with it.  My fingers were nearly frozen solid; not really ideal for moving.  At some point, within seconds of him saying I needed a healer, I faceplanted right on Cullen’s furry mantle, one side of my face squishing up from the impact.  Even as I began to lose more focus, I had enough thought left in me to realize I was seconds away from passing out.

“S-say…do polar bears exist here?”  It’s no wonder why nobody answered me; my words were so slurred, it probably sounded more along the lines of, ‘polla bers es’t ear?’.  Or, you know, something like that.

“Allow me,” a voice came from somewhere, who knows where.  A few words were exchanged, and then I was being handed off to someone else, and I don’t remember anything after that.

~

I woke up in a small tent, my throat sore and my eyes really not wanting to open.  I was laid up in a cot, with what felt like the world’s entire collection of blankets piled on top of me.  I tried to kick them off, but I could barely move.

“I would suggest not moving, for now,” someone said from not too far away.  “You’ll find that most of your strength is still gone.”

I let out a weak groan, forcing one eye open and then the other.  I looked to the side, taking in not only the elf sitting next to me, but the sparse inside of an old, canvas tent.

“Solas?” My words came out more slurred that I’d meant, but the man seemed to get me anyways.  It was his own name after all.

“You should refrain from speaking as well.  I’ve done what I could, but magic still seems to fail around you.”  Solas looked down at me with a frown.  “Are you aware that some magic does, in fact, work on you now?”

I closed my eyes, unable to even nod.  “…’Rita…she…healed,”

“Ah,” came the short reply.  With my eyes still closed, I attempted to ask him about her.  My words were very low, and slurred like before, but Solas understood me anyways.

“The Herald is fine.  She has yet to awaken, but Mother Giselle believes she will make a full recovery.” He waited a beat, before adding, “As will you.  The burns aren’t infected, so far, and they might not even scar too badly.  In light of our recent revelations, I decided to put some salve on them, just in case it has some effect as well.  As of now, you are just suffering from severe exhaustion.”

Oh great.  Not bad at all. 

I let out a light breath as acknowledgment of his words.  The conversation ended there, mostly because I fell back asleep.  The next time I awoke, I felt much better, like at least ten times better.  Solas wasn’t there this time around, but Varric was.

“Yo,” I said, turning my head lazily to look over at the dwarf sitting beside my cot, papers in his hand and a look of concentration on his face.  He snapped out of it real quick at the sound of my voice, his face brightening into a small smile as he looked down at me.  I don’t have to really say how weird it is to have Varric look down on you, but I quickly put two and two together and realized that the cot I was laying on must’ve been really low.  It’s not important.

“Hey there, Scholar.  You gave us a big scare, you know that?”  There was a tightening in his eyes as he thought about it.  “The hell were you thinking?”

“Had to,” I said, like it was simple.  Varric shook his head, and while the smile was still there, it was strained.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding tired.  “Well, I thought I was going to have more letters to write.”

My throat constricted, in a way that had nothing to do with the soreness that still plagued it. 

“You worry too much…was fine.”

We sat in silence for a little while, but it was the comfortable kind, for once, and when I made vague gestures, Varric understood and retrieved some water for me without having to even ask.

The water was cold, and felt good on my throat.  I sat up, disregarding Varric’s half-hearted protestations. 

“Chill, I’m not standin’.  Just wanna sit up.” I told him, my voice getting stronger, though it still broke in some parts.

“Just watch it.  You get sick, Chuckles might actually kill you.”

“Nah, he’d just look faintly disappointed.”

“I would be annoyed, more than anything.” Solas’ voice broke through the small area, as he entered the tent.  “Believe it or not, watching over you has not been an easy task.  Are you aware that you try to strangle yourself in your sleep?”

“Do not.”  I said, defensively, clutching onto my blanket.  I just liked being bundled up.

Solas just gave me a look, while Varric snickered.  The dwarf stood, as Solas approached my cot. 

“I’ll be back later, Scholar.  No strangling yourself, got it?”

“Shut it.”

Varric left laughing.  I couldn’t help but smile, too, because I had a feeling there wasn’t much to be laughing about since the attack.

“Alright, let’s see how you’re faring.”

I let Solas check me out (not like that), and it wasn’t long before he declared me almost completely recovered.  Sort of.

“You will have to take it easy.  Overexert yourself and you will most definitely get sick,” he told me, sternly, as if he knew I wouldn’t listen.  He didn’t give me a chance to respond, even though I’d opened my mouth to talk back.  “You’ll find that you get tired very easily, so once you feel even the slightest bit weak, you are to go straight to bed.  And those bandages will need to be changed daily.  Understood?”

“Yes, mother.”

I ignored his annoyed look in favor of stretching lightly.  It felt good, and it made me remember that I had some questions I wanted answered.

“How long I been out?”

“Only a few days.”  I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Solas beat me to it like some kind of psychic.  “The Herald awoke last night.”

I struggled to get out of bed at that, but was stopped by a single hand on my shoulder.  Solas pushed me back gently, and I only let him because I realized, in that moment, that walking might have been more difficult that I’d thought.

“You’re in no position to be walking.  You can go see her tomorrow.”

I sulked for the next few hours, while Solas ignored me in favor of some book he’d pulled out of nowhere.  I realized this tent must’ve been his as well; it was small, and could only hold two cots (one of which Solas perched himself on).  At some point, loud voices could be heard outside, arguing incessantly.  After it went on for a while, I sat up once more.

“That’s it.  Where’s my boots?”  I demanded, looking around.  “Gonna throw ‘em at those motherfuckers.”

Solas sighed, turning a page.  “Go to sleep.  You’re being irritable.”

I scoffed. “ _I’m_ being irritable?  Those assholes have been fighting for _hours_ –” I ignored Solas’ muttered, ‘it’s been ten minutes’, and went on.  “Don’t they know nobody wants to hear that shit?”

“Would you like a sleeping potion?  I think it might have some effect on you, if given the correct dosage.”  Solas offered, completely ignoring my sour face.  While he said it all chill-like, I could tell that he really just wanted to see if it would work on me or not.

“…Fine.”

The potion wasn’t as potent as it would have been on others, and I suspected Solas gave me something rather strong based on his expression when all it did was make me slightly drowsy.  But, I guess it did something, in any case.  When I leaned back in bed and closed my eyes, I did eventually fall asleep.  It just took, like, half an hour.  I’d like to blame the potion’s weak effect on the bickering outside, but I think the actuality of it was that my body was still resisting the magic-based properties of the damn thing.  Amrita (and Solas) might have been able to heal me somewhat, but it was pretty apparent that magic and me still didn’t quite mix.  It was more like…we were getting there.  Like, at some point, maybe magic would work on me.  Completely.  If I’m honest, the thought terrified me, even if it meant I wouldn’t have to hide as much anymore.

When I woke next, I was finally allowed out of bed.  I did some stretches and nearly cried in relief to just be moving around again.  Varric had told me, as he was with me again when I woke, that we’d be moving on once this day was done.  Amrita was all better, and apparently had some idea on where we could go from here.  I shrugged at that, it’s not like I, or anybody else, had any idea on where to go.  Anywhere was better than here.  I’d prefer somewhere with actual walls, so I could at least pretend it wasn’t absolutely freezing out here.

It wasn’t until much later in the day, once I escaped Varric’s watchful eyes (he was convinced I was perpetually seconds away from collapsing 24/7), that I finally set out in search of Amrita.  It wasn’t hard.  Her tent was near the heart of camp, right next to the large firepit that the advisors seemed to be using at their office of arguments.  I gave them a slightly bitter look for the annoyance last night, but they didn’t notice.  I waved at Amrita, who was sitting inside her tent, eating what looked like oatmeal from a small bowl.  She brightened up at the sight of me, waving enthusiastically in turn. 

“I thought you were bedridden!”  Amrita exclaimed as soon as I took a seat next to her.

“And, what?  You weren’t gonna visit?”  I asked, mock-offended.

Her expression turned sheepish.  “I meant to.  It’s just…a lot happened.”

I rolled my eyes at her.  “I’m only kidding.  So, you got them to stop arguing, then?”  I jerked my head in the direction of the advisors.

Amrita rolled her eyes, seeming a little exasperated.  “Trust me, _I_ did nothing.  Last night was all a blur really…”  She gave me a look, like I was supposed to commiserate with her or something, but when all she got was a confused look out of me, her eyes widened.  “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”  I asked, trying to hide my impatience.

“Of course you wouldn’t.  It seems like whenever something big happens, you’re always clueless.”

“Okay, thanks, you gonna tell me or not?”

Amrita told me all about the mortifying moment that was having the entire camp sing a heart-wrenching song at you (thanks to one Mother Giselle) and I proceeded to laugh gratuitously at her.  She slapped my arm, which actually kind of hurt because I was still pretty sore all over, and told me it wasn’t funny.

“I dunno, sounds pretty hilarious to me.  Thank god Solas knocked me out for that one.  I woulda lost it.”

“Solas knocked you out?!”

“Potion.”  I didn’t get to say anything else, because just then Varric wandered over.

“What part of ‘wait for me’, did you not understand, Scholar?”  he asked, a bit peevishly.

I shrugged.  Apparently unable to go through this argument again with me, Varric turned to Amrita.

“Kid’s not supposed to be out and about.  If he starts looking weak, it means he’s about to pass out.” 

I interjected, because Amrita began looking at me all scandalized-like.  “Solas said it was okay.”

“Chuckles also said to limit the moving around.  And I know you were with Sera earlier today, so don’t even try to lie.”

I sputtered, “I am totally fine.  I think I’d know if I were ‘bout to drop.”

Amrita sighed, and I could see she felt bad.  “Fitz, I never got to thank you.  For saving me.”

I shifted, distinctly uncomfortable now that the conversation turned serious.  “S’okay.  You saved me too.  With the healing and all that.”  We exchanged a look; hers telling me that we would be talking about that incident once we were in a more private setting than a giant, communal camp.

“Which will be all for not, if you don’t get back in the damn bed, Scholar.”  Varric interrupted, with a firm edge to his voice.  “I see you slouching over there.  Now, come on.”

I begrudgingly let Varric lead me back to my tent, waving goodbye to Amrita with only the slightest amount of scowling.

Varric was right, of course.  I got tired very easily and, even though I knew I was still recovering and everything, I couldn’t help but feel annoyed over it.  I’d been injured before, sure, but never this badly.  I didn’t like the helplessness that came with feeling so weak.

Laid up in bed, with Varric keeping quiet company next to me, I had a lot of time to think.  I didn’t like that either.  All I could do was hope that we’d get to this new ‘Haven’ soon, because I actually wanted to talk to Solas about some stuff.  As with Amrita, I couldn’t talk to him here, with only a tent to ward of eavesdroppers (as well as the fact that Varric was constantly at my side like some weird dwarven nanny). 

I was thinking about all this pretty intently, which was why I didn’t immediately notice it when someone entered my tent.  A huff of laughter brought me back down, to see Dorian standing at the end of my cot with a slight grin on his face.

“Ah, so what Sera said was true,” he began to say, looking imperiously over at me and Varric.  “This is where they’ve been hiding you.”

“Evidently,” I said back, wryly, though the sarcastic edge was somewhat dulled by the fact that my voice came out muffled.  I didn’t move to sit up; I just stayed as I was, stretched out on my cot with my blanket drawn up over half my face.

“Well, I just thought I’d bring you something, since no one else is rewarding the heroic savoir of our dear Herald.”

I drew my blanket down, shifting a bit as I tried to see what he could’ve brought me.  “Oh yeah?”

“Don’t excite him, Sparkler,” Varric said, eyeing the Vint as well.  “He’s supposed to be sleeping.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it!” Dorian said with a flourish of the arm.  That’s when I noticed that he was holding a rectangular object, which looked suspiciously like a book.

“Yo, give it!”

Dorian pursed his lips.  “Really?  You’re rude, even in accepting a gift?”

“…Please give it.”

He sighed, but I could tell it was all dramatics.  He tossed the book in my direction, obviously unaware of just how injured I was.  Luckily, Varric was quick to intercept the book that would’ve landed on my bandaged stomach.  I hadn’t even been in the right place of mind to move my arms.  I’ll admit, before Dorian showed, I’d been pretty close to dozing thanks to all the thinking I was doing.

“Dammit, Sparkler.  Kid’s been burned by dragonfire and you throw a book at him?”  Varric said to Dorian, rather viciously if you asked me. 

“Can I have the book now?”

Varric handed it over, while Dorian’s eyes widened a bit.  “And he hasn’t been healed already, because...?!”

Now Varric threw _me_ an unfriendly look.  “Scholar here doesn’t like magic.  Not even the healing kind.”  I started flipping through the book.  It was about children’s fairy tales.  It was a children’s book. 

“What the shit is this?” I demanded, scowling at the now laughing mage. 

“I thought you might enjoy something more befitting your mental state.”  He said it innocently enough, but it was clearly a joke.  I mean, I was still going to keep the book, but he was also still a jerk.

But, going back to the magic shit.  Solas and I had a story for my persisting wounds.  Word was I woke while he was trying to heal me, and freaked out until he promised to go with the more natural route of things.  Funnily enough, this was actually a common occurrence in Thedas (or, at least it was in Ferelden), what with the anti-mage sentiment a lot of people felt.  I don’t think Dorian knew about my ‘fear’ of magic though, because the look on his face was one of composed shock at Varric’s words (I only say ‘composed’ because Dorian was more restrained in his emotions than to gape at me or something).

“So, our Fitz fears magic?  When will the similarities with Sera cease, I wonder.” Dorian said, thoughtfully; probably thinking back to the times he’d seen me around magic (which wasn’t a whole lot, considering I haven’t hung out with the guy all that much).  “However, I can’t say I expected this of you.”

“Really?  ‘Cuz Krem says it’s obvious to anyone with a working brain.”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure that’s not just because his oaf of a boss _specializes_ in espionage and informed him of your peculiarities.  Aha!  You didn’t think of that one.”

That did indeed stump me for a moment, before I got myself together and threw back a, “Nah, you’re just dumb, I guess.”

I swear the man almost threw up his arms and stormed out.  He didn’t, though he took pains to not verbally fight me (probably due to Varric’s stern gaze).  Instead, Dorian stayed to talk a little bit; he tried poking for information a couple of times, asking me why I didn’t like magic and what-not.  I could tell Varric was deeply interested in my answers, but when I feigned drowsiness, the dwarf immediately told Dorian it was time to shoo. 

“I don’t know why talking to you always has to be so circular, Scholar,” Varric told me once Dorian had left, catching me in the act of bringing my covers back up to my face.  I noticed that he sounded pretty tired himself.  “How long you gonna keep playing the vague game?”

I blinked up at the tent covering the two of us.  He was suspicious, and I think he knew something didn’t add up; maybe my behavior was giving me away, or something.  But, I think it had more to do with the weaknesses of literally all the explanations I’d ever delivered to Varric.  He’d probably been keeping a running tally of all the lies, half-truths (because I know he can tell when it’s only half), and bullshit that has come out of my mouth in these past months.  It was a scary thought.

I treated Varric’s question as rhetorical, so instead of answering, I just pretended to sleep.

~

I spent most of the next day stuck on top of a fucking bronto.  Solas and Varric had collectively decided that I was still too weak to handle walking, much to my annoyance.  While I’m sure there were many people who were jealous, I was personally bored out of my ever-loving mind.  I didn’t like being forced to sit around, and I’d gotten enough of that with all the mandatory bed rest being imposed on me since catching up with the Inquisition.  I would’ve jumped off the damn beast earlier, but Varric was walking directly behind me, and would clearly see the signs of flailing as I dismounted. 

I tried to waste time reading the book Dorian had so graciously given me, but five minutes in and I wanted to gauge my eyes out.  I ended up just stuffing it, rather roughly, into my bag; instead of doing what I really wanted to do, which was to chuck it into a nearby snow mound. 

I spent who knows how long trying to just rest, I swear it, but of course that also made me feel like doing even more bodily harm to myself. 

“Fuck this,” I swore aloud, and by accident. 

Ignoring the looks I got from some of the people walking nearby, I peered back around at the troupe behind me.  I zeroed in on Varric, who was actually further away than he’d been previously, and it was the perfect timing.  He was distracted, talking to a group of people I didn’t really know, but whom I suspected were fans of his or something.  He seemed to be telling a story, and he was quite into it, which meant it was the perfect time for me to escape. 

Ever so awkwardly, I unhooked one leg, so that I was riding side-saddle, and tried to slip off the bronto with minimal amounts of flailing (and without sending all the shit the thing was carrying to the ground).  I dropped easily enough into the snow, my pack in hand, and almost collided with some guy.  It was his own fault though, he shouldn’t have been walking so close to a giant fucking animal that was basically being used as a moving van.

When no one shouted my name, I assumed I was in the clear.  My bronto had been trudging along somewhere in the middle of our procession, so I had the pick of either going forward or back.  In the end, I decided to take up a spot a bit ahead of where I’d been previously; putting a few more brontos and people between me and my old spot (and Varric).  I couldn’t really walk with anybody I knew; I didn’t trust them not to send me back to the imprisonment bronto.  These people were taking my injuries way too seriously, Amrita included (though, I believe that had more to do with guilt).  Since I was weaving around people, trying to make my distance from boredom and imprisonment a reality, I really should’ve expected to bump into someone.  Again.

“ –scuse me,” someone said, reaching out to steady me.  I cringed, because the guy I just collided with was encased in massive amounts of armor and it fucking hurt.

“Wait, Fitz?”

I craned my head around, only relaxing when I realized it was just Krem and not some narc or something.  Bull was on the other side of the Lieutenant, talking to another Charger and seemingly focused on whatever conversation they had going on.

“Oh, hey,” I said, as I tried to subtly make sure Stitches wasn’t nearby. “How’s it goin’?”

Krem frowned.  “Aren’t you supposed to be–”

“No,” I interjected, giving him a look. “I’m supposed to be up there.”  I nodded to further up the line.  “You get me?”

“Why don’t you just walk a while with us?” Bull put in, leaning over slightly so that he could be in our conversation. “I’ll warn you if one of your babysitters get too close.”

I looked up at him suspiciously. “Even if it’s Amrita?”

“I won’t even rat you out to the boss, promise.”

I shrugged.

So, that’s how I got to be walking through the snow with Bull and Krem (and some of the other Chargers, of course).  It was much easier, too, now that the weather was calm and I wasn’t all dying and stuff.  It wasn’t long before I was getting questions about Haven, though.

“That was some dragon,” Krem was saying.  “Surprised you’re not more banged up.  Heard you got hit right in the thick of it.”

“Nah, man, it was pretty bad.  Passed out after the fire part.”

Anticipating more questions, I decided to derail the conversation.  “Yo, look though.  I got this burn and it’s in the shape of a fox.”  I had to do some maneuvering (I was pretty well bundled up), but I finally got it so that I could lift my tunic a little bit, fiddle with the bandages, and show off the burn on my stomach that looked exactly like a fox’s head.

Dalish, the Charger who was talking to Bull before I intruded, let out a hum and leant in close to get a better look.  I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me, as she squinted at the thing.  “Looks more like a cat if you ask me.”

“Fuck that, look at the ears.  Too big.”

“I am looking, and those are–”

“Seriously?  You’re both arguing over this?” Krem interrupted, scoffing.  “Besides, it’s neither.  Looks like a dog to me.”

“Fuck both of you, it’s a fox.” I scowled, with a straight face.  I let my tunic fall back down, since they were all obviously blind.

Bull just laughed at us and refused to give an opinion, even when I tried appealing my case.  From there, the talk changed to the topic of where the fuck we were headed.  Apparently, nobody really knew anything about the place, except that Amrita seemed to be setting us off on some hunch or another.  Bull said it was probably Solas’ doing, which was why he was up at the lead of our procession, with Amrita and the advisors, instead of back here with us.  It made sense; the guy probably dreamt about it or something, like in the weird Fade-sense of dreaming, or whatever. 

It was nice to walk around in the sun again, even if it was slightly colder than I normally liked it to be.  And the Chargers were funny to talk with; Bull was too, but I couldn’t quite forget the fact that, even though he doesn’t act like it, he was a spy first and foremost.  It was too easy to let my guard down around him, he was just that type of guy, and that made me nervous.

But, it was all going pretty great.  Nobody was asking me hard questions, no one was side-eyeing me, and there weren’t any dragons around fucking shit up.  I guess it just figures that I’d pass out though; mid-sentence, talking about chocolate, of all things, with Dalish.

Okay, so, it wasn’t an _actual_ faint.  I mean, I blacked out, but only for a second (maybe a few seconds, at most).  I came to in Bull’s arms, hearing him diverting traffic by telling people to ‘move it, elf down’.

“Shuddup,” I muttered, right before we got in Varric’s line of sight.  I wasn’t looking; I could tell we’d reached the dwarf by the exasperated way he said my name.

“What’d I say, Scholar?”

I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.  My head was all fogged up, and a headache was already forming.  “If this shit fuckin’ starts…I swear to God.”

“You say something, kid?” Bull asked, as he placed me back on the bronto.  I didn’t even realize they’d stopped the thing, and I didn’t notice when it started moving again either, though I found out about the slight inconvenience I caused much later, courtesy of Varric.  Apparently, they had to keep the thing still long enough to sort-of tie me to the beast, since I literally couldn’t keep myself up.  As if holding up the procession wasn’t embarrassing enough, I got an earful about the whole thing from the Chargers afterwards, and they let me know that I wasn’t going to live it down anytime soon.  They really delighted in mimicking what must’ve been an epic fall.  They assured me that it was even better than the time at the Coast.

~

So, there I was, sat upon a hulking bronto, with a raging headache and a fuzzy brain.  I was having trouble thinking; it was like all form of a proper thought process had left me.  I was like that for a while, even after we all took a short break and started back up again. 

I came back to myself a little bit before we made camp for that night.  It was late afternoon, but it was still kind of light out, though most of the people around me were starting to lag.  Couldn’t really blame them; it’s not easy walking in the snow.  Anyways, we made camp later, when there was barely enough sunlight left to guide our actions, which I guess just goes to show how eager we were to reach whatever mythical place Amrita was taking us to. 

When I finally felt half-way normal, and when I could actually handle taking in my surroundings without feeling like my head was going to split; I was once again laid up in a tent.  It wasn’t like the small one I’d shared with Solas; this one was pretty big, and there were more people.  After I got a good look at the people I was sharing the tent with, I quickly realized that this must’ve been all the people injured at Haven.  It was a surprisingly small amount of people, maybe not quite a dozen of us.  Of course, these were probably also the only injured people who were strong enough to take (ie: _survive_ ) this kind of journey through the Frostbacks.  It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

I was thinking about getting up, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one kid who was weirdly awake.  And intense.  He didn’t seem injured whatsoever and, to top it off, he was fucking leaning over some lady who _was_ sleeping and he was just staring at her.  At first, I thought maybe they were related, but the weirdness factor won and I felt like I had to call the kid out on the creepy behavior. 

“Yo, bro, wanna chill out?”

He didn’t acknowledge me whatsoever.  In fact, the only attention I got was a confused look from the old woman across from me, who’d been dozing like everyone else in this dumb tent.

“Hey, kid, so not cool. Don’t just ignore me.”

Slowly, the kid turned towards me; almost like he believed I wasn’t actually talking to him.  He froze when he realized I was staring straight at him, which made me raise my eyebrows.

His hair was lank, and it hung in his face in that typical curtain-like way, and he was pale.  Like, really pale.  I remember that his pallor really stuck out to me in that moment, as did his too-angular face and his eyes: which were just a bit too distant, even when he was looking right at me.

“You…you can _see_ me?”

“Well, shit. Duh.”

I thought he might’ve been a bit messed in the head back then.  I mean, what else was I to think?  I didn’t know Cole yet, and I feel bad when I think about some of the…insensitive thoughts I had about him.  In my defense, that was because of my ignorance, and because I simply didn’t know him yet. 

But, in that cramped tent, I didn’t know Cole was a weird spirit-human hybrid.  I didn’t know about his even weirder powers.  I also didn’t realize that no one around us could even see him, which is pretty embarrassing on my part.  My lack of knowledge is expected, and damn predictable, at this point, so forgive me if this seems repetitive.  It’s just that meeting Cole changed things, not all at once and not really at first either, but later on.  You know, like a gradual process.  One that I didn’t expect or even fully understand.  But, I guess meeting people for the first time is always going to be different; I should know that by now.

But, meeting Cole was…weird, for lack of a better word.  For one thing, he didn’t necessarily like me in the beginning.  Like, at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank you for the comments/kudos/reading!! <3  
> fun tidbit: we just got so much snow (a lot for my area!), so i can't help but laugh about the timing, what with all the snow i mention in this chapter. haha


	39. Act II: Le Chevalier n'est pas un Cheval

The kid stared at me, and I stared back.

“Boy, are you…feeling alright?”

I jolted at the interruption, distractedly throwing a glance at the old woman who’d just spoken.  It was the same one who had given me a weird look earlier.  Only, she wasn’t looking at the kid, she was looking at me.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m great, why don – Whoa!” 

The kid breezed past us, basically bolting out of the tent.

“The fuck? He didn’t even have a coat on.”  I looked back at the old woman, expecting her to look worried about the fact that some kid just booked it out of the tent like he was being chased or something.  All I found was her scooting away from me, throwing worried looks in my direction; like she was _scared_ of me.

“W-Who are you talking to?”

I blinked at her.  My mind stopped, and I almost blurted out a, “Are you fuckin’ stupid?”, but thankfully my brain-to-mouth filter kicked in.  Then, I fully realized that this woman hadn’t seen the kid whatsoever.  It didn’t make any sense, and it made me nervous as all hell.  I got up, stumbling a bit, and headed out of the tent.  I wasn’t going to follow the kid, that’d be dumb of me.  I was going to look for Amrita, or even Solas. 

I didn’t get the chance.

Most everybody was inside their tents, what with it being rather late and all.  So, when I walked past tent after tent, glancing left and right for one that looked like it might belong to either of my friends, nobody was around to see me get jumped.

I was pulled sharply to the side, and pushed against one of the many trees that our camp was nestled amongst.  A dagger was held at my throat, almost immediately upon my back’s impact with the tree, and I locked eyes with the kid from before.  They didn’t look quite as vacant anymore; no, they looked sharp.

“I…I don’t understand,” he said, voice faint and faltering; contradicting the strength with which his arm pressed against my chest, keeping me firmly against the tree no matter how much I tried to push him away.

“Hey, kid, calm down.  Okay?  Let’s put the knife down,” I said back, _really_ not liking how close the dagger was to my artery.

“You don’t fit,” he murmured, and I shuddered as cold metal rested against my throat.  “I can’t hear you, it’s like you’re not even here.  You’re just…nothing.”

“Well, fuck, man.  Don’t hold back,” I rasped, his arm constricting my breathing as his grip grew tight, and I worried he was making himself angry or something the more he spoke.

“But, _why_?” he pressed, wide eyes looking me over.  “You _are_ here.  Dim, but here.  But you don’t _belong_ here.”  The knife got closer.

“ _Shit_ – do _you_ belong here?” I threw out, wildly thinking of how to calm this kid down.  I didn’t get it either, he looked like my presence actually pained him.  His face was contorted and his frown was deep.  But, then my words registered, and he leaned back, just a little.  I breathed a small sigh of relief as his grip softened as well.

“That…is a question.” The kid stared at me some more, arm lowering just the slightest bit.  I didn’t dare move. 

“Come on, kid, give me a break.” I told him, my eyes darting between the knife and his face.  “It’d be nice if you could just–”

“What are you?”

“Oh, hell.  I’m just some guy, totally innocent.  I dunno why you freaked on me, but I’m not, like, gonna hurt you or somethin’!”

He squinted, and tilted his head.  “If I look, _really_ look, I see – not light, it’s not bright enough, but it’s there.  You’re real.”

“Fuck, bro, feel my pulse.  That’ll tell you I’m fuckin’ real.”  He dropped his arm completely in the next moment, and took a step back.  I reacted in kind, stepping to the side and putting a good few feet between me and him. 

“I had to make sure.  I…I’ve never _not_ heard before.”  The kid’s hand, the one not holding the dagger, gripped the hem of his shirt, twisting it unconsciously.  I hesitated.  Part of me just wanted to get the hell out of there, but the other part was curious.  Literally nothing that came out of this kid’s mouth made sense, and then there was the small fact that the old woman from earlier couldn’t see him.  I couldn’t just _not_ ask.

“Why didn’t that woman see you?  Why’d you ask if I could?”

His wide eyes bore into me, and I felt uncomfortable under the attention.

“Because I didn’t want her to see.  You weren’t supposed to see.”

“…Okay.  But, how’d ya do it?”

The kid didn’t answer, but he seemed really concentrated for a moment.  I stared back, only becoming even more confused when he suddenly looked away, a frown on his face.

“I can’t make you forget either.”

“Yeah,” I said back, drawing the word out. “So, like, you gonna explain? Or, nah?”

“I…”

“Scholar!”

I whipped around, and caught sight of Varric running towards me.  I cursed, knowing I was about to be in for it.

“I swear, by Andraste’s flaming tits, I’m this close to shackling you to a bed.” Varric even measured out the ‘this close’ bit by bringing his index finger and thumb up, and putting them so close together that I had to squint just to see the space between them.  I guessed he’d about had it with me.

“Hey, don’t blame me! This–” I cut myself off, glancing back at the kid (whose name I wish I knew by this point) and I remembered that Varric most likely couldn’t see him.  The kid watched, silently, but didn’t move.  When Varric started pulling me away from the trees, I let him.  I made sure to look suitably regretful as the dwarf chastised me, and when I finally dared to look back again, the kid was gone.

So, I guess it goes without saying that my first meeting with Cole wasn’t necessarily ideal.  I saw him a few times during the rest of our trip to Skyhold, but I didn’t try to talk to him.  I wanted to talk to Amrita, or Solas, but they were both always at the way front of our company.  I didn’t think it’d be the best time to bring up the weird kid who held me up at knife-point and told me I didn’t belong here.  I sucked it up, and decided to just wait until we reached the damn fortress. 

And, fuck, was Skyhold amazing.  I mean, I’m not usually the type to get all hyped about castles and shit, but this one was pretty cool.  And blatantly abandoned, in this creepy ‘I’m-totally-haunted-and-shit’ kind of way.  I itched to explore it, which I did as soon as we got there.

We arrived early in the day, I can’t remember how long the trip took in all, but it felt worth it when we all got a look at our new place.  Sure, it was decrepit-looking, but it was also massive and awe-inspiring.  Especially after a trek like ours, coming to this castle and seeing it so high up, and still surrounded by mountains, caused a lot of our people to gape.  I saw tears too, and a lot of religious murmuring, though I ignored those pretty quick. 

I won’t go into too much detail.  There’s a lot already written about Amrita’s inauguration of sorts into Inquisitorialness (say that five times fast), and they’re all probably way better written than I could manage. 

They gave my friend a sword she’d never use and a title that was all but forced on her.  I guess she didn’t exactly mind being made Inquisitor, though she never said it so many words.  It was more the pressure that came with the title, that made her nervous.  But, after Haven and everything, she was ready to do whatever it took to take down that asshole and his dragon.  I had to give her props; I would’ve freaked if I were in her shoes.  However, to put it simply, Amrita accepted the major responsibility and dealt with it better than anybody else probably could’ve. 

It took us weeks to make Skyhold even somewhat livable, and even then, there was still a lot that needed to be done.  Likewise, it also took me few weeks before I finally caught Amrita alone.

I’d decided, during that trip to our new ‘Haven’, that I truly wanted to tell Amrita.  I wanted to tell her everything.

“Hey, ‘Rita, you got a minute?”

I found her in the garden, inspecting the new area with a critical eye.  The space was impressive, even though it was still pretty wild and overgrown.  Gardeners were still pulling weeds, even after two weeks’ worth of work.  I gave my friend a significant look, and she understand immediately.  She thought we were just going to talk about my immunity to magic; she had no idea the bombshell I was about to drop on her. 

My nerves were amped up, rising exponentially as we climbed the unnecessarily long staircases that led to her private quarters.  My palms were sweaty, and my headache got worse.

When we were safely locked away in her room, she turned towards me and looked at me with a quiet sort of expectation written across her face.  I took a deep breath.

~

“Okay, stay calm.”

“I _am_ calm.  Perfectly calm.”  Amrita spun around to look at me, her expression sarcastic.  She kind of sneered at me, which caught me off guard because I don’t think I’d ever seen her do that before. “Don’t I look calm?”

“Well…now you’re just being mean, so no.”

She threw her hands up in the air.  “I don’t understand.  How does one just fall from the sky, and into another world?  All my years of studying, never have I _ever_ heard of such an occurrence.”

“No, no.  I didn’t fall from the sky, that mage tore open the Veil, and probably a dimension or two, and in I fell.  It didn’t just happen, it was _forced_.”

Amrita studied me carefully; taking in my emotions, with a much more level eye than her previous statements would suggest. 

“I think you should tell me the whole story again.  From the start.”

So I did.

She listened, and didn’t interrupt me unless I was failing to make sense; which was actually a lot, because I’m not the best storyteller in the world and my story doesn’t exactly make a whole lot of sense to begin with.  But, she listened to me anyways, and she believed me, in the end.

When I’d finished talking, after what felt like forever, Amrita was silent for a moment or two.  She stared me down, solemnly, before nodding slowly. 

“You must swear to me, that this is the truth,” she finally began to say.  “You swear it, and I will believe you completely.”

“I swear, I really fuckin’ do.”

Amrita smiled, oddly enough.  “Alright, then I believe you.”

I waited for her to break; yell, or call me a liar.  But she didn’t.  I was pretty well caught off guard, so I couldn’t really help it when I tried to refute her words.

“What, just like that?  You’re not gonna, like, call me insane or somethin’?  I could be outta my fuckin’ head.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, still smiling.  “We have spent enough time together for me to know that you still possess a sound mind.  When you aren’t being immature, that is.  Or drunk…”

“Okay, point made,” I interrupted, before she could go on with listing my faults.  “But, it’s just that…it’s such a crazy story.  How could you just believe it?”

I must’ve sounded desperate, or something must’ve shown on my face, because Amrita lost the light grin and worry crept into her expression.

“Do you really think it’s that crazy?”

“You said it yourself–”

Amrita waved a hand.  “Yes, but that was before I thought more about it.  Please forgive my quick words.”

“Look at what has happened to the world since I left my clan,” she said, turning to face her balcony.  It was a big one, even larger than the ones I remember from Hawke’s mansion, and it overlooked the wide expanse of mountains that surrounded us; the mountains that encased us.  She paused in speaking, just for a moment, as we both looked out at the scenery. 

“A hole in the sky, a mortal physically walking the Fade and returning with unknown, completely unstudied magic on the palm of her hand,” Amrita held her left hand out, looking down at the mark.  In the privacy of her own room, she hadn’t bothered to keep it covered up.  It glowed faintly, not too much, but it was still weird to look at.

“Don’t talk in third person,” I muttered, feeling awkward as the mood turned too deep for my liking.  Amrita punched me in the shoulder before continuing.

“Fitz, a lot has happened, and most of it is absolutely insane.  I wouldn’t have believed any of it, had I not been the one _living_ it.  Creators, I was sent a _year_ into the future, who would believe that?” she said, laughing.  I felt my lips turn up, it was nice to see that she could laugh about it now.  I mean, like, she could look back on that terrible time and see past the parts that were painful, which, to be fair, were nearly the entirety of it. 

“I see your point,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my head.  “It’s just…you’re the first person I told.  I-I expected – I mean, I always expected to have to fight.  Like, to make my story believed.”  I didn’t look at her, not head-on at least.  Not even when she turned to face me completely, sorrow coloring her expression.

“No one?  For more than ten years, not once…?”

I shook my head, messing with my hair as I tried to get over my own embarrassment. 

“Oh, Fitz.”

“Uck, please don’t.”  I said, making a face, unable to handle the emotion in her voice.  I shrugged my shoulders, just for something to do.  “It’s not a big deal, it’s not like–”

Amrita flung her arms around me, forcibly bringing me down to her level so that she could comfortably have her arms wrapped around my neck.  I stood there awkwardly, bent over because of our absurd height difference. 

“I’m sorry.”

I’m not going to lie, my eyes burned as I began to tear up a little.  I didn’t cry, but I kind of felt like it.  Instead, I just let Amrita hug me and tried not to think too much.

~

I left for Emprise du Lion not long after my talk with Amrita. 

In the short time I had before departing for the ice infested area, Amrita attempted (multiple times) to convince me that I needed to tell Solas about my story.  I wasn’t having it, even though her points were completely valid; with sound reasoning such as, “Solas knows more about anything than anybody we know! He could help you!”, and other such logic.

Telling one person was enough for now.  I needed a buffer period before I started thinking too heavily on things; I’d finally quit it with the panic attacks, I didn’t need to get myself all anxious by taking on more than I knew I was ready for.  I needed to think about other stuff, non-dimensional stuff, which played a big part in why I was so glad to be back to scouting.  Even if my new bosses were kind of dicks.

“OI!  Neves, quit playing with the wildlife, and do your damn job!”

I twitched, still holding a hand out to the fennec fox standing before me.  The creature was looking as if it were about to approach me, but the shout from one of my company leaders sent it skittering away.  I turned around to scowl at the bastard.

“I’m on break, you fu–” 

Sawyer, who’d actually been doing his job of collecting some rashvine that was growing in mass along a nearby wall, ran at me and pushed me before I could finished speaking.  I fell into the snowy bank along the frozen lake, and sputtered.  Sawyer waved at our lieutenant, calling out some words of subservience that I didn’t really catch, because I was busy getting the snow off my uniform before it melted in uncomfortable places.

“You dick,” I spat out, as I shook snow from my cowl.

Sawyer gave me an unimpressed look, shoving a bundle of collected herbs into my arms.  “That’s the third time you’ve almost cursed someone off.  And it’s always towards our lieutenant, might I add.”

“Yeah, so? And that fox was gonna let me pet it, until that asshole had to go and scare it off.”

My friend shook his head, turning away from me and going back to bundling.  “You and foxes, I swear to the Maker.”

I went back to work, after placing the herbs in their allocated chest a few yards away from our nest of rashvine.  I hadn’t really been slacking, that fox just happened to be sniffing around us when our lieutenant decided to inspect us.  I swear on it.

We typically spent all our mornings collecting herbs.  Somedays, if we (and by that I mean, just me) happened to piss off our company leaders, we’d be sent on herb duty _all_ day.  And in this climate, it’s not all that much fun to be out for hours on end, picking fucking leaf things. 

That’s not to say I regularly piss off our lieutenants, of which there are two at this camp.  I only did that once, and it’s safe to say I didn’t want to do it again; not after my fingers nearly fell off from the cold and the bundling of a full day’s work collecting herbs.  So, despite my posturing, I was actually really glad Sawyer cut me off before I accidentally called our boss a ‘fuckin’ prick’, even if it was a completely true statement.  That particular bastard also insisted on calling me by my surname, no matter how many times I tried to correct him, and that set me on edge more than anything.  Let’s just say, I was _extremely_ lucky Sawyer was always around.

We finished bundling in the latter part of the morning, which was a well-worn routine by now.  Me and Sawyer had been among the first party to actually establish the camp.  Scout Harding had been with us and everything.  It was really nice while she was here, but since she was one of the Inquisition’s lead scouts, she had to move on to discover new areas eventually.  And her leaving left us with our current company leaders, both of whom were the dour-and-strict types (and dicks, but I already mentioned that). 

Around noon, a group of us would be sent outwards to the surrounding areas.  We already had a few groups heading southwards to establish more camps, but we still had to keep an eye on the immediate area (duh, hence the title of scouts).  The higher-ups had told us on day one that these things called Red Templars were holed up all throughout Emprise.  All of us had already heard the stories about them from other survivors of Haven, if we hadn’t already had the misfortune of seeing them firsthand (which I had).  Anyone who saw them had pretty gruesome tales; on their looks, and their strength.  I couldn’t recall much from Haven; my fall and injuries had left me a bit amnesiac whenever I would try to recall that night.  However, it went without saying, I didn’t _really_ want to see one of those red freaks up close.  I don’t think anyone did.  And yet, we still had to engage them as part of our jobs.  Groups of the things would occasionally try to get into the town of Sahrnia, which lay just outside of our camp.  The town was now under the official protection of the Inquisition, making it so that it was our duty to fight whatever hostilities that came with it.

Anyways, I was always put into the group that was sent to guard Sahrnia during the day.  It wasn’t as exciting as being among those sent farther out (into the more woodsy areas, and whatnot), but work was work.  Those guys sent farther out would only be watching for Templars, anyhow.  And probably fighting them, too.  It might’ve been more lively, but they’d just have the added danger of Templars _and_ wolves to contend with in the end.

My job was to watch over the town, and keep lookout for any hostile movement.  All of us knew damn well what a Red Templar looked like by now (it would be pretty obvious to literally anyone), so it wasn’t a hard job.  As part of Inquisition relationship-building or whatever diplomatic bullshit like that, half of us were assigned to helping out the villagers while the others kept watch on the outer lying edges of the town.  We’d swap jobs after a bit, just to change things up.  I usually began my afternoons on lookout duty.  After a few hours of nothing but watching trees, I would then switch places with one of the guys who’d been doing whatever chore the villagers needed our assistance with on that day.  Usually, it was fixing something; like a roof, or a table.  Sometimes it was finding food, and other times it was simply helping sew quilts and clothing.  I wasn’t good at most of that stuff, but since they didn’t require grade A products, my work was sufficient enough.

The town had been devastated, repeatedly, throughout the months leading up to our arrival.  Not a single house remained untouched, or unharmed, and I wondered how these people even kept warm when some of their houses didn’t even have tarps covering the broken roofs to keep the cold (and snow) out.  I should also mention how small the town was.  It looked to me like they’d lost at least half their people, along with their livelihoods.

However, when I tried talking to the people, most of them sort of just ignored me.  The villagers were suspicious of us, and tightlipped.  But I did eventually learn, from an elderly man (after weeks of hanging around and helping him out with tasks, mind you), that many of their abled bodied people had been taken by the Red Templars during the many raids that had taken place before our arrival.  After I found that out, I overheard this one lady, one of the better off ones, talking about the quarries.  In short, the Red Templars were working the quarries (for nefarious purposes, I’m sure) and they were using the town’s people to do it.  Since I was still on the job when I heard this, I had to simply make note of it in my journal.  It was just the thing our higher-ups told us to be listening for; and I reported it as soon as we were allowed to end for the day.

Other than that one instance, work was slow going.  We were basically just waiting for Amrita to come check all this out.  We had rifts that needed shooing, and security issues that desperately needed securing.  I mean, we were holding out just fine for now, but who knew how long that’d last.  Regardless, I figured it’d be a while before Amrita actually got here, though.  When we’d last spoke at Skyhold, she had been planning a trip way west of here, to a place I forgot the name of, but she’d said she was going to visit Emprise on the way back. 

So, I spent my days in a cycle of herb collection and village reconstruction.  And hoping the damn Templars didn’t annihilate us all in the meantime.  Despite the danger, I couldn’t help but be bored.  I mean, I knew it was probably for the best, though.  Even I had to admit I wasn’t the best option for anything that went beyond work of a more mundane nature. 

I was still having my blank-outs, but they were different from what they’d been before Amrita sealed the Breach.  I was actually _blacking_ out now, just like when I passed out while walking with Bull and Krem on the way to Skyhold.  I had originally thought that my fainting had only been because I was still recovering from massive injuries (and maybe, from the magic being enacted on my body during the healing process – since it was still a fundamentally foreign entity to me), but that proved wrong when I passed out one afternoon in Emprise. 

It happened within the first week since arriving.  It was after we’d established our headquarters, so our jobs were finally being extended to tasks outside of building camp.  Me and Sawyer had been roaming around the hills just west of the frozen lake where we spent most mornings picking rashvine and other such herbs. 

I was lucky only Sawyer saw it.  He was a normally meek guy, though I’d noticed he had definitely come out of his shell since the first time we met, and I was able to convince him to not tell anybody I’d collapsed on the job.  I’d probably be sent back to Skyhold for good if they found out; they might deem me unfit for work, and then I’d be stuck in that fucking place day in and day out.  I didn’t want to be stuck anywhere confining like that fortress.  That’s not to say I hated the place or anything, I just liked having the freedom to go to new places, which the Inquisition was basically allowing me to do for free (hell, they were paying me!).  I liked being around nature.

The first time I fell, while wandering around with Sawyer, wasn’t so bad.  I got up almost as soon as I’d fell, blacking out for maybe a second or two at most.  It was worse, and harder to hide, when I’d be in the village, in the middle of attempting to fix a roof, and I’d suddenly black out.  In fact, that actually did happen.  I mean, I didn’t fall off the roof completely, but it was a near thing.  I was able to play it off as a simple fumble on my part (and it was understandable too; those roofs were deathtraps even for people not currently prone to fainting spells). 

Unfortunately, this meant that people began to know me as ‘that clumsy elf’, which I figured was just a hit I’d have to take.  Luckily the scouts in our party weren’t all that racist, like Foster had been, and so the need to fight people didn’t hit me as hard as it had at other times in the past. 

In fact, I had fun with these guys.  Despite the rather strict lieutenants we’d been assigned to, the scouts themselves were pretty cool.  This one scout, a woman who was actually Orlesian, totally wrecked this one guy (verbally) by insulting him completely in her native language.  And, Orlesian is basically French by another name, so I was able to understand a little of what she said.  Now, I took French for six years back home, and I guess some of it stuck, because I actually caught most of what she said.  I guess she didn’t expect anybody to understand, because she looked pretty shocked when I started laughing.  Of course, it was awkward when I had to explain that, ‘No, I’ve never been to Orlais’ and ‘I only know the language because I had a friend who taught me some of it’.  Everyone, even Sawyer, bought the lie.  After firing off some rapid questions at me, the woman quickly found out that my speaking wasn’t the best.  She thought it was funny though; my accent was absolutely terrible if I didn’t try hard to emulate a proper one (and I didn’t try at all). 

I ended up talking to her a lot.  The Orlesian scout’s name was Natalie and she actually put up with me pretty well, even after I badgered her to help me brush up on my Orlesian.  I’d forgotten how much fun it was learning new languages, and it was a nice way to spend our downtime (since there wasn’t a whole lot of entertainment in our area).  She was a good teacher too, even without a textbook of any sort. 

Outside of re-learning French, I spent a lot of timing with Sawyer, getting drunk in our tent with some other scouts.  We had to be respectable (or else face the wrath of our lieutenants), so no of us ever got majorly wasted, but it was fun to just get stupid sometimes.  You know, take the edge off.

So, in all, I liked my time in Emprise, even though the area’s story was pretty depressing.  It was probably one of the prettiest places I’d ever been to, so far.  Oh man, it was so pretty, I didn’t even mind the cold half the time (I still complained, of course, but that was just me being me).  God, if I had a camera out there, I would’ve gone wild. 

I was still with the same camp when Amrita finally arrived.  She swept in like she usually does; in a way that caught everybody’s attention immediately.  She skipped coming to our camp first thing this time around, in order to tackle the two rifts that lay over the frozen lake.  Me and some other scouts watched Amrita’s group defeat the demons and the rifts from the safety of camp, and, I swear, the scouts were in awe just watching them fight.  I was more relieved, because we’d been tip-toeing around those rifts for months now, just so that we could peacefully pick rashvine and arbor blessing without calling forth the demon hordes. 

So, like I said, I’d already been there for a few months, but it wasn’t until I saw Amrita heading towards me that I realized just how much I missed her.  I was happy to see her, and Solas, too.  I was slightly less happy to see Blackwall and Cole accompanying her.  I had nothing against Blackwall (I didn’t fucking know the guy), so I didn’t really feel anything at the sight of him.  My reason for not jumping with joy at the sight of Cole is probably self-explanatory.

However, I greeted Amrita enthusiastically nonetheless.  I ignored Cole when he twitched in surprise, like I’d snuck up on him or something, even though I’d walked right up to them all in plain sight. 

Amrita grinned, eyes straying to take in the camp.  “I trust you’ve been well?”

I bobbed my head, looking back at the scouts who were huddled together and gawking at us.  I rolled my eyes.  Hero Worship.

“It’s fuckin’ cold, but whatevs.” I replied.  “You gonna finally take care of those red freaks?”

“Hmm,” she said, raising her eyebrows.  “That was the plan.  What can you tell me about the area?”

I scowled. “I look like a freakin’ tour guide?  Ask them.” I nodded to my lieutenants who were also staring.  Amrita sighed, and I assumed I went too far with the antics, so I was quick to backtrack.

“Fine, fine, stop giving me that look.  I’ll tell you.”

I began with what I’d overheard Harding tell my lieutenants, way back when we all first arrived.  The lake that had frozen over completely in one night, the town and the Red Templar raids, the quarry issue, and Suledin, though I had to admit to not knowing much about it; I told her all of it.  The only good news I had for her was when I finally got around to telling her that we’d branched out since our arrival, and that we now had a total of three campsites.  I even showed her a map.  Amrita seemed surprised that we’d already began establishing more camps, but I made sure to tell her that it’d been an extremely slow process.  The area was way too dangerous for us to send big scouting parties out, so we’d basically been sending small groups out one by one; and those groups would go on to establish camps.  The other two camps probably rivalled our own by now; we’d sent out over a dozen parties since arriving.  Every new batch of scouts sent to us by the Inquisition would enable it so that senior scouts could join those new venturing parties.  I don’t know why I wasn’t sent with them, and, I won’t lie, I was slightly disappointed every time I found out my name didn’t make the list.  Me and Sawyer were the only scouts to stay at the north camp since our arrival in Emprise. 

Anyways, I thought that’d be it, once I explained our situation to Amrita.  I figured she’d head out, and take care of the quarry issue first thing.  But, of course, Amrita had to surprise me.  Like always.

“Care to join us?”

I glanced at Cole, who was staring straight at me and not blinking regularly, and then the other two.  I shifted feet when I noticed that Solas was looking between me and Cole. 

“Nah, I’m good.  You guys have fun though.”

“Actually,” Solas cut in.  “I think we might need another in our party, if this area is as dangerous as you have warned.”

“Uh, it’s not _that_ dan–”

Solas spoke over me, giving me a look.  “Last we spoke, you told me you wished to see as much as possible during your travels.  Did you not?”

I stared at him, just shy of glaring.  I had said that.  When we had a little chat back at Skyhold, the day before I set off for Emprise.

“Okay, yeah, but–”

Amrita interrupted me this time.  “Are you alright, Fitz?”

I felt myself flush, not that they’d notice it.  I felt like I was going to cause a scene if I tried to refuse one more time.  So, I caved, as usual, to avoid drawing any more attention to myself than necessary.  Wishing I had a way to talk to Amrita privately (and without attracting Solas’ sharp eyes), I couldn’t help but think that my cowardice would be my downfall later on.

“Ahaha, I’m fine!” I assured her, composing myself.  I even put on a grin.  “Okay, you guys got me.  I’ll tag along.”

~

Solas knew Cole didn’t like me.

I don’t know how he picked up on it; Cole literally didn’t say a word to me.  The kid wasn’t even unfriendly about it, he just didn’t talk to me.  It must’ve been all the staring he was doing.

Oh, but Cole had a lot to say about everything else though.  From the area, to our other companions; and it was all suitably disturbing, although I did find some of his comments funny.  Blackwall seemed distinctly uncomfortable around the kid, but not mean or anything.  And then there was Solas, who spoke to Cole like an old friend.  Amrita was kind, too, but I could tell she didn’t quite know what to make of him yet.  She probably brought the kid along on her recent trip in order to get to know him better, but that was just my guess. 

I had told her about my meeting with Cole, back when I also told her about my alien status in this world.  She told me Cole was the result of a spirit, who had become human, or something like that.  It was all really confusing and I didn’t understand any of it.  I might’ve gotten antsy as soon as the word ‘possession’ came out of Amrita’s mouth, when she was trying to explain what Cole was to me.  I was so not about the possession type stuff.  I watched enough horror films in my youth to know it was some bad mojo, even if I couldn’t really remember everything that happened in those movies.  People died, or were hurt, or ended up summoning Satan at some point, that much I do remember. 

But, I was also mature enough to not just hate the kid.  Because he was still clearly a kid, you could tell just by looking at him; it didn’t matter if he was technically a spirit or whatever.  And I couldn’t really get past that.  Sure, he made me nervous, but I made him just as nervous.  The first time we met, the kid seemed scared of me, or at least he believed me to be some dangerous entity; just like how I’m sure everyone else is treating him.  Amrita had already told me that Vivienne and Cassandra were all for getting rid of him, and I could tell from Blackwall’s behavior that he knew about Cole as well.  I probably don’t even have to mention it, but it was also damn obvious that Solas knew, and was all for keeping the kid in the group.  I was willing to bet he was one of the only ones.  So, I could only assume that everybody in Amrita’s circle knew we had a little lost spirit boy in our midst.  I didn’t even want to imagine the kind of reaction Sera had to this news.

I mean, I wasn’t about to befriend, or even talk to, the kid.  He didn’t like me, and I didn’t want him spouting off crap like, ‘you don’t belong here’, around the others.  Amrita would catch on and cut him off, of that I’m sure, but it would certainly pique Solas’ attention, which I _didn’t_ want.  Not yet.

I learned quickly that Cole didn’t have much of a filter.  I was so fucking lucky he wasn’t able to get in my head.  My mind terrorized me with images of how that’d play out; my brain seemed to favor putting Varric in those scenarios too, I guess to make it ten times as horrifying.

I so wasn’t imagining one of those scenarios when Amrita elbowed me, as we left Sahrnia and headed for the quarries.  Before we could leave, Amrita had wanted to take a quick look about town.  Of course, Red Templars decided to attack just as we were milling around, and they were quickly beat down by the surprising force of my new team.  Then, Amrita went right back to talking to villagers once more, which didn’t take too long.  Just long enough for me to zone out, though.  It took me a few to register that she was talking to me.

“Hello?” she said, waving in my face now.  I blinked at her, which made her frown.

“What’s got you all…vacant today?”

I shrugged. “Tired.  What were you sayin’ before?”

She sighed.  “I was only asking you a question.  I wanted your opinion on that chevalier we just met?”

I blinked, again.  “Uh…we met a horse?”

“What?  What does that – I’m talking about a man, Fitz.  The only one we talked to in Sahrnia.”

“Oh, right.  Um, he seemed…cool?”

Amrita looked me dead on, her expression flat.  “You have no idea who I’m talking about.”

“…No.”

She sighed.  “Creators, how do you do it?”

“I meant the blonde man, you remember fighting alongside him, yes?” She waited until I gave a vague nod.  I did sort of remember some random guy helping us kill a few of the straggling Red Templars a little while ago. “Well, since you were apparently off in _some other world_ –” Amrita interrupted her own self just to laugh at her stupid joke.

“You’re hilarious.” I gritted out, elbowing her and looking around for any eavesdroppers.  The others were walking a bit ahead of us; Solas speaking with Cole and Blackwall looking stiff.

“I’m sorry!  You should’ve seen your face,” she exclaimed, wiping away imaginary tears, before finally getting on with her original reason for this conversation.  “The man – Michel de Chevin – asked us to help him fight a demon.  I was wondering what you thought of him first.  But I guess since you don’t even _remember_ him–”

“Ugh, I remember him.  Guy has a hard-on for Orlais and shit,” Amrita pushed me. “What?  It’s true.”

“Anyways, yeah, I saw him a few times in Sahrnia.  He got there a bit before we did.  Said it was his goal to, like, protect the town or whatever, good stuff.” I shrugged. “I thought he was a bit of a fop.”

“A fop.”

“Yeah.” I sighed as she just looked at me.  “Fine, he seems decent.  I don’t think he’s, like, evil or nothin’.  That good enough for you?”

She smiled.  “I thought so too!  We’ll find the demon, after we get rid of those pesky ‘red freaks’, as you call them.”

I had to laugh as she imitated me.  The words sounded weird coming from her mouth.

I don’t have much to say about the days that followed.  We got rid of the Templars’ little quarry project, though it was fucking hard.  Like, you wouldn’t even believe how hard.  One of the fucking things nearly tackled me back into the right dimension, I fucking swear on it.  We got them though, and found all the stolen villagers while we were at it.  We saved many of those people, but some had already perished from the abuse and the hard labor being forced on them.  Still, I was at least glad that Sahrnia would get some of their people back.  Better than none.

I also learned that Solas’ shields sort of worked on me now.  The man probably threw them on me just to test it out, which I didn’t altogether appreciate, even though Amrita already knew and Cole probably knew in his own weird way.  I didn’t have to worry about Blackwall; he was basically a battering ram during battle, so he wouldn’t have noticed if a dumb magic shield fell down just because I touched it.

Okay, so when I say the shields work on me, I don’t mean they work _well_ on me.  They didn’t break upon contact, like before, but they always fizzed out after not even a minute of encasing me.  I was kind of glad they didn’t last long.  I didn’t like how they felt.  It was all wrong.

But, I got over it.  Didn’t even tell Solas off for doing magic shit to me. 

We were in a hurry to move on after we’d finished in the quarries.  It was like Amrita was on a tight schedule or something, which I guess was true, but I felt rushed.  I guess I’d just gotten so used to sticking around my one little camp in northern Emprise, but still.  We basically just took enough time to recoup from our previous battles and then we were off.

Amrita’s next goal was to claim Suledin Keep, and effectively wipe the Red Templars off the map of Emprise du Lion.  Before we entered the fortress, we met back up with the chevalier.  They discussed that demon, who was supposedly so ancient it was ridiculous, for god knows how long.  I got bored, and I zoned out, but I did hear enough to know that this thing was dangerous.  Cole seemed distressed hearing about him.  And I felt distressed, simply because I had a feeling I was going to have to join them for this fight (out of my own sense of morality, not because they were gonna force me or something).

I just have to say, that after it was all over with, case closed and shit, I honestly thought this journey to be the craziest fucking shit I’d ever had the misfortune of experiencing.  I should probably tag on a ‘yet’ to the end of that, simply because my future would surely get weirder.  I mean, I thought the Templars we fought in the quarries were tough shit, but this dumb fortress was like stepping it up a notch, or ten. 

It wasn’t funny.  We had to kill a fucking giant, just to get to this demon motherfucker.  I had to legitimately stab the ankles of a fucking giant again and again while periodically running away to hide, just so I wouldn’t get squashed.  I think I annoyed everyone with my continuous stream of cursing and ‘oh my fucking god’s, but they can go suck it because everything about this mission was fucked up as all hell.  Same goes for the bastard Imshael, that demon sack of shit.  I still get angry just thinking about it.

First of all, we stumbled into his lair, covered in giant blood and god knows what else, and he tries to strike a deal with us.  As if we’d go through the trouble of killing all his damn beasties, only to break down at the very end because he offered us some gold.  Oh, and virgins.

The demon stood before us, in the middle of what looked like a courtyard.  Solas had mentioned during our trip that Suledin had once been an elven fortress, back in ancient times or whatever.  It looked it, too.  Some of the stones that made up the floor had been torn from their spots; ruining the uniform lines made by each row of square stone, while vines and weeds snuck their way between the now open spots in the flooring.  There was even some plant life on the outer edges of the courtyard, lining the walls, which I was surprised to see hadn’t withered or died due to the place’s condition.  The walls that enclosed the otherwise open area were high, towering, and the sight would have been impressive, if it weren’t for all the red shit growing sporadically within the courtyard.  That shit wasn’t pretty (I mean, it looked cool in a bad-ass sort of way, but I knew from Varric just how bad this stuff was). 

I stood to the side, and somewhat behind Solas.  Cole stood on the other side of the elf, and I noticed that he refrained from looking directly at the demon, like he was repulsed or something.  I was taken out of my musings, when the demon got to the virgin bit in his whole evil-monologue thing.  Mostly because he called me out.

“Oh, well it looks like you already have two of those…so maybe not virgins.  Perhaps you wish for some other commodity?  I would be happy to negotiate!” the demon offered, in his smarmy voice.  He even made it a point to eye me and Cole somewhat distastefully when he brought attention to our virginity, which was fucking rude.  Unfortunately for him, Amrita decided to throw down before he’d even finished speaking.  Shame.

Then, it was all fighting, along with a multitude of cursing and yelling.  Imshael tried to get us to listen to some more deals, before we really got him angry and he just said screw it, and began to fucking shapeshift on us.  That scared me. 

I don’t actually remember the fight well; it was all a blur, as most fights are for me.  I focused mostly on the demon’s buddies, who invaded our fight early on by creeping up on us from the outskirts.   When there were no more minions to kill, I had to move on to Imshael himself. 

While he had called me out on being a virgin earlier, it seemed he was less aware of me in battle; perhaps because he was pretty distressed at this point.  I mean, the thing was probably panicking; we’d already picked off all his buddies, and we were hacking away at his defenses with strength I don’t think he expected.  So, he’d underestimated us, which wasn’t all that new for the Inquisition, I suppose.

Anyways, I was able to put my two cents in without him paying me any mind.  I wasn’t so pleased to find that, unlike other demons, this one could actually hurt me.  I theorized it was because he, like Cole, had a more physical tie to the world.  I mean, he wasn’t like Cole; they were both fundamentally different, of course.  But, Imshael was powerful.  Even if we were getting the one up on him in this fight, it was plain as fucking day that this thing was more powerful than your typical, everyday demon.  It was bad enough he talked, but he had to go and be all strong and shit, too.

In his panic, he sent out wild hits, repeatedly; and one just happened to knock me to the side.  I wasn’t outrageously hurt, thankfully, but I was limping a bit once the fight was over.

Blackwall sent one last swing of his sword and the demon finally fell.  I nearly cried out in relief; actually, I think I did.  The others were just as relieved though.

“Fuck,” I said, loudly (and obnoxiously) drawing the curse out, as I held onto my aching sides.  I had to step gingerly, my left ankle felt twisted or something and it hurt to put pressure on it. 

“It’s over.” Amrita breathed out, with her hands resting on her knees. 

“He was a bully…a crow who liked to pick on those in need.” Cole said in that whimsy way of his.  No one really replied, though I’m sure we all agreed with him.

“I just wanna know how that motherfucker knew I’m a virgin.  The fuck, right?”

Blackwall seemed to break; he just started laughing.  I scowled at the burly man, until Cole decided to answer my rhetorical question.

“You’re more open now…the magic that shouldn’t, it clings to you now, growing,” he said, getting closer to me.  “It makes you easier to read.”

I sputtered, and when Cole looked like he was going to go on, I slapped him on the back (in a friendly way, not like aggressively or anything).

“Cool!  Thanks, Cole!” I said, loudly.  Amrita, catching on quickly, walked over to us.

“Let’s head out.  I’m sure I speak for all of us, when I say we need rest.”

God, it would’ve been great if it ended there.  But, no.  I had to fucking pass out before we even made it back to camp to tell everyone that Operation Reclaim Suledin was a success. 

I fell in the field where we had fought the giant.  I was whining to Amrita about my ankle, when suddenly I stopped talking.  And then it was bye-bye for me, and in the most attention-grabbing way possible.

I didn’t wake right up again, like on the trip to Skyhold or that time with Sawyer.  Amrita told me I was out for days; they weren’t even sure if it was safe to travel with me unconscious like that, so they all stayed back at the camp with me.  I was touched, until Amrita went on to tell me that I’d be returning to Skyhold with them.

She said something about Solas wanting to keep a closer eye on me; seeing as I was apparently prone to fainting nowadays.  She literally didn’t even give me room to argue; it was an executive decision all the way.  I was sour, mostly because it was a logical verdict and I couldn’t even find fault in it, except that it provoked my inherent dislike for being told what to do.

I wasn’t at all pleased that I was being forced to return to Skyhold; and I mainly didn’t like that it was because they thought I was weak (and the ‘forced’ part, but everyone already knows that).  Amrita and Solas had obviously been talking about me in my absence, and I assumed they saw the signs I’d been trying so hard to hide from the scouts all this time.

Solas had taken me aside, the day before I left for Emprise, and we’d talked for a bit about none other than myself.  I was getting pretty sick of being the constant topic of discussion, and since Solas cornered me pretty much right after my confession to Amrita, I might’ve been more snappish with him than he really deserved. 

Solas was trying to find out the meaning for my lessening resistance to magic, so he had a lot of questions to ask me.  Actually, it was hella like going to the doctor’s and having them try to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you.  I think I was mostly truthful to him, like I even told him about the fainting (on the trip to Skyhold, as well as a more recent one that had happened when I was exploring one of the towers a few days before our talk).  Of course, I regretted letting him know so much after all the shit that went down in Emprise.

I think my magic problem was more serious than I liked to admit, or even think about.  Judging by the solemn look Solas wore, during our conversation in Skyhold, I could tell it probably wasn’t good.  Solas didn’t have any definite answers to give me, and I think he was refraining from speaking until he had more data (or something scientifically explanatory like that).  But, it felt like he knew _something_ , even if it was just a gut-feeling or a hypothesis.  I didn’t ask; I chickened out.  I might’ve also downplayed the fainting spells a little bit, just so he wouldn’t decide to narc on me and tell the Inquisition higher-ups that I was unfit for fieldwork or anything like that.  As it was, he hadn’t seemed all that pleased over my leaving Skyhold, all those months ago.  I mean, he explicitly told me he didn’t approve of it, so it wasn’t so much that he _seemed_ displeased as he was openly disapproving.  He made sure to tell me that he thought I was being reckless and whatnot, and I responded by waving him away.  It was my business at the end of the day.

So, really, I should’ve known that the man would be looking me over for signs of weakness from the get-go.  I mean, I should’ve known better than to think he wouldn’t notice, at the very least.  It must’ve been obvious to him that I was still experiencing those episodes where I’d blank out completely.  And, shit, they were happening even more frequently and it showed no signs of stopped anytime soon.  I mean, passing out completely is way worse than simply staring at a wall for an uncomfortably long time, like a zombie. 

It’s probably obvious already, but I was having difficulty paying attention, to everything, and even after only a week of being reunited with Amrita, she noticed I wasn’t all there.  I don’t know if Solas saw the signs first thing, or if took a couple days like I know it took Amrita.  It didn’t seem important at the time, but I can’t help but wonder if he wanted the chance to observe me more when he all but coerced me into joining them back at the north camp.  I mean, I had figured that had more to do with wanting to know what was up between me and Cole, but, hell, I don’t know anything. 

All that aside, it wasn’t the end of the world, no matter how much I bitch about being ganged up on and forced back to headquarters.  I mean, there were a few things I didn’t mind returning to.  I’d get to explore the place some more, for one thing.  I’d poked around here and there, nicked some books when people weren’t looking, and even got to check out the sweet new armory.  The main thing I was looking forward to was the tavern; which Amrita was quick to mention to me, after she gave me the order to return with them to Skyhold.  When I had left for Emprise, the tavern had only been this broken down building (like all the others) that some people had turned into a makeshift drinking spot that really only served one type of beer.  But now, Amrita promised at least ten different types of alcohol, and honest to god tables to pass out on, instead of the floor.  I’m not saying I perked up immediately at this news, but I might’ve stopped complaining about dictators and oppressive regimes midsentence. 

With the happy thoughts of getting utterly wasted on my mind, I allowed Amrita and co to treat me with kid-gloves with only small bouts of snapping and bitching.  I guess I should also admit that I’d kind of been missing Sera, and Varric, for a while now.  It’d be good to catch up with them again, and I really wanted to tell Sera about the huge fucking statues I’d see every goddamn day back at the north camp.  I knew she’d get a kick out of them.  I had drawn her a picture of them and everything.

Also, I figured it’d be easy enough to avoid people at Skyhold, if they got too overbearing.  I just had to find the best nooks and crannies first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I felt a little scattered with this chapter - if any parts seem disorganized, or confusing please let me know so I can fix it!  
> I promise I have many more Cole scenes planned (especially in the next chapter!) I'm rlly happy so many of you were excited for him to meet Fitz :D
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, you guys are awesome <3  
> and, um, sry if the cheval (meaning: horse in french) joke isn't funny, I lol'd tho so I couldn't resist it


	40. Act II: How Dreaming is Like Foreshadowing

“Does _he_ have to be here?”

I stared at Cole pointedly.  He sat across from me, perched on a chair that lay in front of its well-used desk.  It was also right next to the small, and only, window in the room, which meant that the kid blocked most of the sunlight from getting into my eyes. 

The kid stared right back at me, and I struggled not to blink.

“Cole wants to help.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t consent to it, and this is my–”

“Do you have a problem with Cole?” 

I saw Solas turn to face me, from the corner of my eye.  He’d just finished placing wards on the door; I guess to protect us, so like no one walked in on us or anything.  He told me, on no uncertain terms, was I to get too close to them.  He mentioned something about that kind of magic taking a lot of energy to put into place, so I guess he’d be pretty mad if I accidentally broke them. 

We’d been in Skyhold for a few days, before Solas finally got tired of waiting and ambushed me.  The man had practically dragged me out of the tavern and, let me tell you, it was enough of shock just seeing the elf in such a place.  I mean, I would’ve seeked him out eventually.  I wasn’t necessarily avoiding the guy, so the whole ordering me to follow him thing was a bit over the top, especially since it got me laughed at by the rest of the people at the bar.

Obviously, I followed him, and I was actually interested in seeing what he had to say.  When we were safe from prying ears, Solas told me he wanted to check on my magic thing, and I was pretty curious to see how he was going to do that.  And to see what would happen, though I wasn’t betting on much.  I was much less amped when the spirit kid tagged along.  So when Solas asked me if I had a problem, I scowled.  Though, not necessarily at Cole.  I mean, I was still locked into a staring contest with him so I guess it probably looked like it was directed at him, but it wasn’t.

“Nah, I have a problem with this violation of my god-given rights…to privacy, as a human being – I mean, as an elven being–” I waved a hand, my eyes beginning to burn.  “My point is, _I_ didn’t say he could be here.”

“And I didn’t say you could make yourself comfortable on my bed, and yet there you lay.”

I twitched, but didn’t move from where I sat on his bed, leaning back with my arms spread out behind me.

“Eh, you kinda forced me in here, so…”

Solas effectively cut the staring contest off, by coming to stand right in between the both of us.  I took advantage of the moment to blink rapidly, and then I turned my gaze upwards, to scowl at him.

“If there is something you’d like to say in regards to Cole, please, don’t refrain.”

“Nope.  Nada.  Was just wonderin’ whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality, ya know?”

Solas adopted that look he gets when he’s being vaguely disappointed, and he wants you to know it, but I did my best to ignore him.  I made myself more comfortable; stretching out a little, sinking down to rest my forearms on his bed, instead of holding myself up like before.

The elf sighed, and turned slightly to face Cole.  “Cole?  Is there something you wish to say?”

The spirit-boy stayed silent for a moment, long enough for me to lean to the side and peer around Solas.  I met the kid’s eyes once more.

“…If he’s chill, I’m chill.”

I barked out a laugh. 

On the trip back to Skyhold, I had cornered Cole when I knew Solas was fast asleep.  We just had a little chat, reaffirming our continuing civility towards one another, and all that good-faith type of stuff.  I had told him exactly what he’d said to Solas just then.  At first, the kid had no clue what I’d meant by ‘chill’.  All he did was reiterate the words back to me in a confused tone.  I had to spend nearly five minutes explaining what I’d meant by it to the poor guy.

Solas turned back to me, wearing as close to a scowl as I ever remember seeing on his face.  “Please do not teach Cole your abhorrent verbal habits.”

“Jeez, you’re gonna sound like Dorian, or the Madame.  Speakin’ like that.”

“Just…let us begin,” Solas said, looking like he wanted to rub his temples, before pointing to a far corner of the room.  “Go stand over there.  I will not be setting fire to my sleeping quarters today.”

“Oh, you know that implies you _have_ set fire to your room before,” I said, laughing as I stood and sauntered over to the empty corner.

“It happens,” he said back, idly.  He followed me a few steps, stopping so that he stood in the middle of the room, while still remaining a good few feet away from me.  For a moment, all he did was look at me in contemplation, and I stretched an arm over my head, trying to get rid of the anxious feelings that always came with being studied at any length.

“So, what now?” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice steady.  I put on a bored face, leaning my back against the wall.  “You just gonna go at it?”

“Yes, I believe that will be best,” he replied, cocking up one eyebrow and not looking an ounce impressed with my nonchalance.  The next second, without warning, Solas shot off a quick barrage of spells, aimed directly at me.  I flinched reactively, even though the spells broke with only a slight tickling sensation on my skin; a sensation that lingered even as we watched the remnants of his spells evaporate around me.

“Anything?” Solas asked, looking faintly amazed at what just happened, even though he knew damn well that magic couldn’t hurt me.

“Eh, it tickled.”

The man hummed.  “I honestly thought…I believed your situation might have been altered, given the recent changes to the status of your immunity.”

I raised my eyebrow, and went back to playing with my hair. 

“So, what?  If I caught on fire, what the fuck were you gonna do?”  I exclaimed, feeling indignant.  “You were just gonna light me on fire, man?”

Solas didn’t even try to answer that, instead he turned his attention to Cole, who was still sat near that little desk.  The afternoon light fell through the window next to him, illuminating all the dark shadows that lined the poor kid’s face.  He looked like your everyday gutter rat, gaunt faced and skinny.  Actually, he looked a hell of a lot like I did, before I met Hawke.  And, before I started getting regular meals again.

“Cole, do you hear anything from Fitz?”

The kid stared at me, which I returned with a hard look.

Before Solas could prompt him, Cole eased off his chair, and wandered closer to me. 

“It’s so faint, if I don’t look, I can’t hear…” he whispered, coming to a stop right in front of me.  I glanced over at Solas, who was very blatantly paying close attention to us.  Or, rather, Cole specifically.

“Anger…” Cole began. “Old anger, and hurt, but quiet, willed away with a practiced wave of – it’s gone.”

“Well, this has been lovely.” I drawled.  “Can I fuckin’ go?”

Solas practically had to tear his gaze away from Cole, but he managed it just so he could give me a frown. 

“Allow me a few more minutes, and then you may leave.”

I groaned; just to be annoying, even though all it got out of Solas was a dispassionate glance. 

True to his word, Solas freed me after a few more minutes of testing.  It was difficult to understand, but it seemed like magic wasn’t exactly vanishing right after coming into contact with me, as it had always done in the past.  Solas hypothesized that magic was actually beginning to cling to me, not permanently – just for a few moments, which was why Cole was able to access my mind.  You can imagine how un-pysched I was to hear this. 

However, this wasn’t all that happened.  We also figured out that magic had a fifty-fifty (perhaps less than that) chance of actually doing anything to me.  Like, magic wasn’t always clinging to me after every hit of a spell.  A few of the spells Solas threw at me didn’t do shit, and Cole didn’t hear anything from me afterwards.  It was a small comfort, but not nearly enough to put me at ease. 

When we were finished, Solas asked me how I felt, like a doctor, and I knew what he was really asking.  He was looking for signs of exhaustion, or collapsing.  We put it together that my black outs were being influenced more heavily by magic, and by my lessening resistance to it.  But, it was all just so volatile; my black outs weren’t predictable.  It felt like they were fucking with me more than anything.  After our magical theory and practice session in Solas’ room, I found out that I could go weeks without anything happening, and then collapse in the middle of dinner on some random night.  Sometimes I blamed alcohol, just because I really was drinking too much, but other times I really couldn’t explain them away.  And it was becoming noticeable.  I spent most days avoiding Varric like the plague.

Cole wasn’t spouting out my secrets though.  I was beginning to think he wouldn’t do so at all, even if he knew about me.  I think, even back when I first found out what he was, I always suspected he had some notion of what my own circumstances were, even if he didn’t have the explicit details.  He might not have heard it from my head, but I think he knew I wasn’t from here.  Like, instinctively or something.  I mean, hell, his first words to me were ‘you don’t belong here’, and ‘are you real?’.  That kind of says a lot.

But, like I said, I was beginning to think Cole wouldn’t go about telling secrets, not knowingly (or coherently) at least.  Though, I think it bothered him greatly that he couldn’t suss out all my inner turmoil and shit.  As long as he wasn’t blabbing, I didn’t mind him all that much.

Honestly, though, I didn’t start actually liking the kid until one night, a few weeks into my involuntary vacation at Skyhold.

~

“Fitz!”

I stumbled, my hands letting go of the bag I’d been packing.  I cursed, and knelt down to pick up the fallen articles of clothing that had escaped in the fall.  I spent a second wondering why I was packing, but nothing came to mind, and the thought was gone before I could think too hard on it.  A presence washed over me, as another figure joined, their large hands taking the pack from me and stuffing the remaining items back inside. 

He stood, shouldering my bag, and then held out a hand.

“Come on, Fitz, what’s taking you so long?”

I accepted his hand, before giving him a mock scowl.  He just grinned back, lopsided and wide.

“Back off, man.  As if Merrill isn’t taking _twice_ as long as me.”

The man’s face turned thoughtful, in a happy joking sort of way, and I found that I couldn’t look away from him.

“Ah, yes, but I believe that’s mostly Isabela’s fault…” We heard something fall, and shatter, in one of the back rooms of Merrill’s house, and then raised voices, one laughing loudly in a way I remembered only too well.  “You know what, they can meet us at the city gates.  Come along, let’s leave before we see something damaging.”

“What d’ya mean?”

He shook his head, chuckling.  “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Fuck off,” I scowled.

Hawke ruffled my hair, and for a second I closed my eyes.

When I opened them next, we were in the Gallows, and the others were waiting for us at the gates.  All of them had a pack, or two, and I was surprised to see that even Aveline had decided to join us.

“Aveline got off work?”

Hawke had an arm around me now, and a faraway part of me thought that I was much shorter than I should’ve been.  Hawke towered over me.

“Even Guard Captains deserve a break sometimes,” Hawke pitched his voice, even though we were only a few feet away from our friends by this point.  “Isn’t that right, Aveline?”

She threw him a dry look.  “Oh, yes.  As if you would ever give me a break.  It’s not like I’m only here to make sure the lot of you don’t set fire to the entire length of the coastline.”

Hawke held his free hand up to his chest, giving the redhead an offended look.  “What in the Maker’s name are you talking about?  Even _I_ can’t burn down a beach, Guard Captain.”

“What must you think of us, Aveline?  Do we look like arsonists to you?” Anders joined in, just as mockingly offended as Hawke.  Somewhere in the back of my head, the thought ‘ _you hypocrite_!’ screamed out, even though I had no clue why that had even entered my mind.  I hesitated, even as Hawke continued trying to pull me along, and, in that moment, I realized he wasn’t touching me at all, but rather imitating it.

“Wha–”            

“May we leave?” Fenris said, cutting me off. “I’d rather not stand around in this place for much longer.”

“Careful there, Broody.  Your excitement is showing.”  For the first time, I noticed that Varric was there as well.  But his words struck a chord in my memory, I felt my eyebrows furrow.  I felt a headache coming on.

“Wait…this is lik–”

“Of course!  Let us head out!” Hawke spoke over me, so joyfully that I almost stepped forward to join him.

“What about Merrill?” I asked, trying to ignore the pain in my head. “And Bela?”

“They’ll catch up, they always do.” Hawke said with a sincere smile.  He held a hand out to me once more, and I started, because suddenly the five of them were much farther away than before.  I looked at what I had thought was the Gallows of Kirkwall, but everything was so blurred and distorted; I couldn’t make out the scenery anymore, and I was just so damn confused.

“Come on, Fitz.  Don’t you want to go to the beach?” Hawke asked, his gentle voice reaching me as if he wasn’t many feet away.  “You love the beach.  It’s just like the one in Jersey.”

“I do?  No, wait, it's nothin' like…” I murmured to myself, pressing both palms to my temples.  I looked down, fear creeping in for the first time.  This wasn’t normal.  I felt my surroundings pressing in, and everything felt so bright, like the sun was rising ten feet away from me.

And then, suddenly, I was in pain.  All over.  My eyes squeezed shut; all my senses felt like they were going into overdrive and my headache nearly ripped my head in two.  I felt like screaming, just to get that feeling of release, because I felt held down and locked in some kind of mental hell.

“Fitz, wake up,” a voice was saying, faintly.  A voice that wasn’t Hawke’s.  “Fitz!”

I woke up screaming.

~

I expected to see Amrita worrying over me.  Not Cole.

The kid was illuminated by a single candle, which he must've brought with him.  His eyes were wide, and he looked so worried, it threw me off guard; even as I still fought off the remnants of the dream I’d just had.

“I could hear the hurt that time, it was loud,” he said urgently, leaning closer.  “But, there was nothing I could do to help!”

I didn’t answer him, I couldn’t.  I clutched at my chest with both hands, as if that would stop my heart from jumping out.  I was dazed, to say the least, and the fear inside me went way deeper than the memories of those images that had just played in my mind; the ones of Hawke and the others.  I had to remind myself several times that I was still in Skyhold, and still in the tiny room Amrita had secured just for me. 

I didn’t dream.  Ever.

I hadn’t had a single dream in all my time on Thedas.  Of course, I didn’t think much of it at first.  It actually took quite some time for me to realize it, simply because I never really dreamt much back home (or, if I did, I never remembered them).  It wasn’t until one evening at the Hanged Man, many years ago, that I had learned what it meant.  The memory itself didn’t stand out all that much; it was just of Varric answering a simple question, something about dreams, and he ended up mentioning that dwarves didn’t dream at all.  I’d gone to the Chantry in the days that followed, because there’d been a book I remembered seeing that had actually mentioned something similar.  Of course, I had just skimmed over those parts because I didn’t think them relevant back then, so I had to find the book all over again.

That’s how I learned that you needed a connection to the Fade in order to dream, something I very obviously did _not_ have.  Back in Kirkwall, it’d been an interesting side-note, something I’d kept in the back of my mind, but didn’t really have the means to research it more fully.  Besides, dreaming wasn’t all that important to me back home, never really thought much about it before.  So, I’d basically given up all hope of ever dreaming, and you know what?  I figured I was better off anyways; I had enough nightmares in my memories alone, I didn’t need to see them in my sleep as well.  I did my time back when I was still getting myself all worked up over blood mages in the Kirkwall sewers; that shit literally kept me from sleeping to begin with.

So, you can imagine how absolutely freaked I was when I realized I just had a whole fucking dream.  And I fucking remembered it, like it’d actually happened.  Like it was real, even though I could also remember how grainy the dream had been; like trying to watch a show with shitty Wi-Fi.

My mind was going crazy, wondering if those images of my old friends were really spirits (or what?), and I almost forgot all about Cole, who was sitting next to me and looking quite distressed.

I got a hold of myself.  No sense overthinking things I still didn’t understand.

“S’okay, Cole.” I murmured, taking a deep breath and lowering my hands from my chest.  “You don’t have to worry.”

“But, I _am_!” he all but cried, wringing his hands now.  “How can I hear what I cannot heal?  It doesn’t make any sense.”

"I don't like not being able to do anything."

“Think of it this way,” I told him, waiting for him to look at me before putting on a grin. “A lot of things will never make sense.  I’m one of them, and that’s just how it is.  Don’t hurt yourself trying to understand it.  Fuck, man, I don’t even get it.”

He stared back at me, mournfully, before turning intense in the very next moment.

“Thoughts, churning over and over, nothing to say and yet everything all the same.  The past is the past, if only I could – oh, it went away.”

I gaped, stiff with surprise and slight fear at the implication of his words.  “Was…were you jus’ in my head?”

Cole tilted his head at me, before answering slowly.  “It was like with Solas, but this time you reached out to me on your own, unknowingly, but it was still there.  You pulled back too soon for me to listen fully.”

I gulped, but nodded despite my feelings of dread.  Kid was getting into my head without any magic to ease the process, fucking aces.  “’Kay, probably not good, but whatever…”

Cole hovered a hand over my arm, as if he was thinking about patting it.  I smothered a real grin this time.  “Really, I’m fine, kid.”

"No, you're not."  I didn't have the energy to fight him on it.  He was right anyways.

The silence stretched on, and I wasn't anywhere near getting back to sleep.  Cole wasn't moving either and, surprisingly, it was he who broke the silence.

“Do…do you want to go see kittens?”

“Kittens…hell yeah!  Where at?”

~

I spent the rest of the night with Cole.  In the barn, the one Dennet had established as the stables, a cat had given birth to a whole litter of kittens.  They had made the perfect little home out of one of the haystacks that lay near the fire, which was always going at the very heart of the barn.  We played with them for a while, gaining many scratches to our fingers and even more cat hair to our clothing.  Even as I began to lag with the sleepiness that had evaded me earlier, after my nightmare, I made no moves to leave.

“Hey, Cole?” I whispered, my eyelids dragging.  The kid looked up at me immediately, still holding a hand out to a kitten, who was gnawing on it gently.  “Do I…am I connected to the Fade now?”

His face turned sympathetic, as he thought it over.  After a bit, he shook his head, though his words weren’t so definite.  “You’re…different.  Than before.”

“I can hear you, sometimes, but it’s so quiet, I don’t always notice it,” he whispered, biting his lip. “I’m sorry I don’t notice.”

I smiled, looking at the ceiling.  “S’nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Cole edged closer to me, and I looked back only to see him peering up at me with those wide eyes.  “I can’t tell, it’s so hard.  Sometimes, I think you’ve always been touched by the Fade, not like the others, but in your own way.  But then other times…it’s as though the Fade has no place in your very being.”

I rubbed an eye, earning a light reprimand in the form of a swat from the kitten I’d been petting.  “You know about me?  Where I’m from?”

His silence spoke miles, as did the intensity in his eyes, so I went on, wearily.  “There’s no Fade where I’m from,” I murmured, as low as possible.  “I literally can’t be Fade-touched, or whatever.”

“But, that’s just what you think,” the kid replied, making me pause.  “It could be quiet, like you.  So quiet, your world forgot it exists.”

I stared at him, feeling tremors start to form in my hands as I thought over his words.  “That’s…that’s not possible.  It can’t–” I stopped talking before my voice broke.

“Yes, it _can_.” Cole told me, firmly.  “Have you never thought why you look just as an elf would in this world, when there are none in your own?”

“T-that’s different.”  I had thought about it before.  I paused though, when his words finally hit home.  “Wait, how’d you know that?”  The elf thing wasn’t something I thought about all that much anymore, and I don’t remember ever thinking it while he was around.  I mean, I guess it might’ve always just been in the back of my head, but I’d always thought Cole only heard _current_ thoughts.

Cole stayed silent for a moment, giving me time to calm down, after which he began once again.

“When you get upset, you get louder.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed.  “Well, shit.  I’m always upset.”

He shook his head.  “No, that’s…restrained.  You keep it tied so tight, so far down, I can’t hear that hurt.  It’s when you forget to push it away, that I hear you.  Like when that man pushed you, when you were leaving the tavern a while ago, and he called you names.  You were drinking, and you started yelling back.  The Iron Bull had to carry you away.”

“Oh,” I let out in one long exhale.  I didn’t remember it.

We didn’t speak all that much after that; me and Cole just existed in comfortable quietness in that barn.  He’d given me much to think about, though I would probably have to save it for times when he wasn’t around to hear me get ‘upset’.  But, I think he was warming up to me; whether it be because of the few instances where his powers worked on me, or because we were actually kind of similar.  Neither of us understood our circumstances, not fully, and we knew we were different from the rest of the people that surrounded us day in and day out.  I think Amrita had a talk (about me) with the kid, too, so maybe he was just being nice because of that.  Like everyone else, Cole loved Amrita.  I didn’t care though.

When the sun started to rise, Skyhold began to come alive as well, and we knew that pretty soon people would be everywhere.  Cole bailed when the stablehands arrived to get on with their morning work, but I stayed a little while longer, ignoring the looks I got for chilling out in a haystack at such an early, almost ungodly, hour. 

As I sat there, nestled in the hay with two kittens snoozing on my lap, I wished down to my very being that I knew what the hell what going on with me.  I just wanted to understand.  I wanted to stop blacking out and getting headaches, and everything.

“There you are,” a voice came from the entry of the barn.  I looked over, sleepily, to see Solas in the doorway.

“Cole told me what happened.  He thinks I can help.”

I blinked. “Hmm.”

Solas walked over to me.  He looked not only at the kittens surrounding me, but he also sent a scrutinizing once-over to my tired form. 

“Your friends will be forgiving, I think, if you were to leave them, and join me somewhere warmer.  How does a cup of tea sound?”

Gently picking up the two kittens that were clinging to my pants with their little claws, I placed them next to their mother, who purred at me without moving.  I stood up slowly, so as not to disturb them, and followed Solas out of the barn.

~

Rest assured, Cole had only told Solas about my nightmare; not a word about the other-world stuff.  I was beginning think that it was only a matter of time before I’d have to give up my stubbornness, and tell Solas everything as well, but the thought still made me nervous.  For reasons I didn’t quite understand back then, the idea of telling Solas scared me.  I know now why that was.

It wasn’t just sheer procrastination on my part.  To be honest, I was scared of what would happen if Solas knew.  Out of everyone, Solas was always the guy most likely to find me a way off this planet.  You’d think, after all my attempts and wishing, I would jump for the chance, but that’s not how my emotions played out.  I’d been away for so long, and since joining the Inquisition, I had time to think about myself, something I had always been bad with. 

No matter what way I looked at it, I was changed.  I probably wouldn’t be able to fit in back home, if I were to ever return.  I knew that, deep down, but I just wasn’t ready to admit it.  It was my cowardice, and my insecurities, that plagued my actions, and affected the way I thought.  Or, the way I allowed myself to think.  It just always felt like I _had_ to go home; I always had to find a way home.  Like, it was some kind of belief I couldn’t shake.

I was too stupid to realize I didn’t really want to go home anymore, and by the time I was ready to admit it, it was almost too late.  But, that story comes later.  I guess I just wanted to write this here, because it felt important, and it’ll help make what happens later on more understandable. 

~

Amrita was out more often than not.  She had many places that required her personal attention apparently, and that just meant that I didn’t get to see a whole lot of her.  When she was in Skyhold, we would usually get together for a beer or two, but she would usually wander off with Sera at some point, leaving me to just get wasted by myself (or with the Chargers, if they were around). 

It was on one of those days when Amrita was back, that I half-heartedly attempted to appeal my case to her.  More out of boredom, than anything else.

“Amrita, please.  Hear me out.”

“No.”

“Come on,” I griped, throwing my hands up.  “You’re being unreasonable.”

She gave me a look from over one of the many pages held in her hands.  I’d found her eating breakfast at one of the tables in the main hall of the castle, right across from where Varric was usually sitting and rooting through his own mail.  Varric was nowhere to be found on this particular day, though I didn’t have the time to ponder this weird fact.  I had figured I’d just gotten lucky.

Amrita was looking at me like I was being stupid.  “I am _not_ being the unreasonable one here, Fitz.”  She didn’t give me a chance to refute that statement, before plowing on.

“You can’t go scouting until you show signs of improvement.  And last I checked, occasional fainting spells are _not_ an improvement.  I wish you would stop disregarding the seriousness of your… _problem_.”

“Ugh,” I groaned.  “I’m not gonna pretend it’s not serious, it’s just…I’m so fucking _bored_.  There only so much time I can spend cleaning up destroyed rooms for ‘the betterment of the Inquisition’.  Jesus, even the tavern’s getting boring.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t go out drinking _every single day_ –”

“You’re missing the point! I’m finding _drinking_ boring!” I leaned down so she could properly see the expression on my face from where she sat, still going through papers.  “That’s not normal!”  Despite my antics, I knew from the start that I was fighting a losing battle.  I was just doing it for fun, and for the nervous looks I was getting.  Humans get surprisingly twitchy when tall elves start acting rowdy.

“Do you think you could sit down while you yell at me?” Amrita requested, absently.  “I believe the nobles are staring.”

I sat myself down in a huff.  “Like you care.”

“I do too care – Alright, I am not playing that game.”

I laughed, because I almost got her, and she joined me.  She also put her papers down, finally.

“I _hate_ paperwork,” she sighed.  “I’d rather go back to herding druffalos for poor farmers.”

“Pfft,” I snorted, nudging one of her papers to the side so that I could look at it.  “No, you don’t.”

“You’re right,” she admitted.  “I don’t.”

She didn’t try to take the papers from me, so I let myself go at it.  I’d just picked some up, when Amrita decided to start talking again.

“Anyways, I’ve been wanting a word with you,” she said, voice significantly lower than before; enough so that I looked up to meet her eyes.  I made a face at the seriousness I saw there.

“When were you going to tell me about the nightmares?”

“Night _mare_.  No biggie, bro.”  I told her, returning my attention to the papers a bit too quickly.

“That’s not what Cole told me.  He said you’ve had at least four of them since last we spoke.”

“What?  That little brat – He’s lying.”

I felt Amrita’s eyes trying to melt my brain.  I shifted.

“Oh please, Cole doesn’t lie, don’t be a–” She cut herself off, for some reason, and took a breath.  “Listen, this is important.  Solas said he’s been giving you tea, and sleeping droughts.  Have you been taking them?”

“Yeah…” I looked around, feeling a smidge paranoid.  “It’s cool.  Talk later, alright?”

Amrita frowned at me, but I think I looked desperate enough that she decided to lay off.

“Fine.” She was quiet for a moment, and I finally let myself focus on reading.

“Solas said you haven’t been feeling weak these past few weeks, I suppose that’s a good sign, yes?”

“Yeah, how’s that for improvement – Hey, this is a pretty sweet deal,” I exclaimed, pointing at one part of the paper I’d been reading, completely missing the opportunity to reopen my scouting case.  “You really gonna get some Antivan–”

“Fitz!  You little heathen!”

I jerked in my seat, whipping around to search for which direction the angry voice was coming from.  I saw Dorian striding towards our end of the table, waving a book in his hand.

“Oh _shit_ ,” I cursed.  “What the fuck – what’s he doin’ outta the library?  I didn’t know he actually _left_ it.”

I stood up in a rush, and the bench I’d been sitting on made an awful squeal as I pushed it back.  I winced an apology to Amrita, who had also flinched at the sound (but not to the nobles who were now glaring at me, fuck them).

“This has been nice, hit me up before you leave next, okay?  Or, well, what’re you doing later?” I asked in a flood of words, looking over my shoulder to gauge how long I had before I needed to scat.

“Well, I’m meeting Varric later on, he wants me to meet–”

“Fuck, sorry, ‘Rita,” I interrupted, as time ran out.  “I gotta jet, catch you later!”

I ran for the front doors, Dorian hot on my trail.

“You coward!  Don’t run away from me!”

“I didn’t do it!”

“You wrote in my books!” I looked back to see him gaining on me, still waving that book, though it looked like he was thinking about chucking it at my head now that he was close enough.  “I know your filthy scrawl.  I asked you, _politely_ , to stop taking notes in my personal texts, just as I asked you to stop _stealing_ them!”

“Innocent until proven guilty, man!”  I ducked through the doors, passing by a big group of people in the foyer of the castle, which I used to my advantage.  I knocked one man’s bag out of his hands, which I’ll admit was mean of me, but it was a necessary evil. 

Then, with a plethora of curses aimed at me, I fled from the castle, leaving a nice mess in my wake.  I got away though, for the time being (Dorian wasn’t about to forget about my transgressions, and I’d have to endure the telling-off sooner or later). 

I headed for one of my more hidden spots, since my pursuer would probably know to check the tavern and all of my other popular haunts.  Dorian would probably head straight for the tavern, and then maybe the ramparts.  But, after checking one or two spots, I was guessing he’d give up.  You know, tire himself out. 

So, I headed in the opposite direction.  Nobody really went to the dungeons, since they were creepy and empty, and had a giant fucking hole in the middle of the cellblock that led to certain terrifying death via skydiving.  I’d gone there quite a few times since coming back from Emprise.  At first, it was just because I hadn’t been yet, but I ended up returning because I sort of felt bad for the one soldier who’d got assigned watch down there.  Had to suck; it was cold, dark, and lonely.  Needless to say, she welcomed the company, and, in return, I got a hold of some pretty good Skyhold gossip from the chatty soldier. 

It was a solid deal, and it worked even better when I needed a place to hide from people.  Go figure.

~

I had to make the best of my forced stay in Skyhold.  Between the boredom and the worrying fainting fits, I needed to find some form of entertainment.  Messing with people was entertainment. 

Dorian was easy to mess with, when it came to his books at least.  But, I didn’t just pick on him, that would’ve been mean (and kind of weird).  Me and Sera would usually team up and fuck with whoever we wanted; she wasn’t scared to screw with the more intimidating people in Amrita’s inner circle.  On my own, I was totally way too chicken to fuck with at least half the people Sera wanted to get the hit on.  Like say, a certain Spymaster or this one Orlesian mage we both knew.

Usually, when stuff went hilariously (or infuriatingly, it depends on your outlook) wrong, people blamed Sera.  So, I was usually overlooked when her schemes blew up; which just meant I usually got away scot-free.  Of course, Sera also had absolutely no qualms with totally ditching me if it meant she’d avoid a lecture, and by that I mean: getting yelled at.  For a while, I’d only ever been caught and yelled at by Dorian, but I ended up having to add Cullen to that list after one particularly bad cock-up a week or so after I tried (and failed) to convince Amrita to let me go scouting again.

I’d been in Skyhold for maybe a total of three or four months by the time me and Sera decided to get one over on the Commander.  It all started with a drunken side-comment one night at the tavern, where I mentioned that Cullen’s hair was as yellow as a sunflower (I can’t for the life of me remember the context of the conversation that led up to that dumb comment, but I think it had to do with what type of flower people would be, if they weren’t people.  I know, it was dumb, but we were drunk, okay?). 

A day later, Sera strolled up to me one afternoon with two bags worth of yellow flowers and a plan to douse the Commander with them.  And, I stupidly followed her without any objections whatsoever.

~

“I didn’t do it.”

Cullen gave me a look that read, ‘yeah right and I’m the Empress of Orlais’, so I was quick to add, “It was all Sera, I swear.”

Only slightly mollified, Cullen replied, “Right.  And I’m sure you didn’t help her in any way.”

“Exactly! You get me,” I said, relieved.  “Wow, look at the time, when’d it get so late?  Well, I’ll be seeing y–”

“Not so fast.” Cullen said.  His tone was authoritative and halted me in my attempted escape for the door.  He was every bit the Commander of an Inquisition, even with flowers in his hair and his silly fur thing.  Also, he was technically still one of my bosses, so I kind of had to listen to him. 

“You’re not leaving until all of this is cleaned up.  Sera or no Sera.”

Fair enough.  But I still grumbled about it.

I bent down and began picking up all the flowers that decorated nearly every inch of the Commander’s floor.  Cullen threw an empty bag at me, simply because there were too many flowers to hold in just my arms and pockets.  I resolved to make Sera pay for ditching me, after I found out how she managed to pick so many damn flowers.

I’d only just begun cleaning up, when one of the soldiers burst into the room. 

“The Inquisitor has returned, ser.  She is calling for a council meeting, right away.”

The soldier saluted, and left once Cullen nodded.  Before Cullen followed, he delivered me a stern look.

“If I come back and I see a single–”

“Yeah, yeah.  I’ll be in so much trouble.” I said, rolling my eyes and stressing the ‘so’ in a mocking manner.  Cullen shook his head and gave up on me.  He left his office without any other threats.  I didn’t bother informing him of the daisy that remained lodged in the fur that covered his shoulders.

I did pick up most of the flowers.  That is, until I got to the patch closest to Cullen’s bookshelf.  Then, I got distracted by the books that lay before me.  Dropping my bag, and still crouched on the floor, I picked up one of the tomes on the lowest shelves.  It looked old, and was crazy dusty; I had to wipe it on the canvas bag so that I could make out the embossed title.

I was deeply involved in reading when I heard the door open once again, though I knew instinctively that it couldn’t be the Commander.  Council meetings went on for _years_.

Not bothering to look up from my book, all I did was call out a quick, “Commander’s not here, try again later.”  I expected to hear a grunt, an ‘alrighty-then’, but I didn’t get either.

“I suppose some things never change, huh?”

My blood froze.  Hell, I froze all over.  I didn’t dare look up, even though I most certainly wasn’t reading a single word on the page in front of me anymore.  It felt like my heart was going to jump out of my throat, it was beating so fast.  My head adopted this light feeling in it, as I forced myself to, slowly, look up at the person who spoke those words.

Hawke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowwww~ So, I've had the reunion scene written for like TWO MONTHS now and I am so excited to be at this part. I just wish I didn't have school getting in the way...  
> Just an added note: in early chapters I've alluded to Fitz' having nightmares, but I never went into depth with them - so, I'm explaining them more as like 'day terrors', rather than the sleeping kind. For a long time now, I've had this image that Fitz would begin dreaming at some point as he began forming some kind of connection with the Fade (I also liked this idea for the chance to include more scenes from the past ;P)  
> I wish I alluded to it more in previous chapters. It just slipped my mind lol I just wanted to clarify, because I know it's kinda out of nowhere!  
> Thank you all for the reviews/comments/kudos/ect! I really appreciate every single one of you ;D  
> Hope yall are doing well<3


	41. Act II: I've Got A Bottle of Vodka and a...That's It

I’ve made a lot of people angry over the years.  I mean, my whole life has basically just been me fucking up and pissing people off, even back home.  What with the speaking before thinking and the penchant for insulting people without any reserves whatsoever, I pretty much aim to get on people’s nerves. 

I think ticking off Hawke had to be at the top of my shitty list of fuck ups.  No joke.

He looked older.  I mean, not _a lot_ older; just a few gray hairs at his temples and some more light lines on his face.  Even after nearly eight years, Hawke looked just as I remembered him.  He had the same black beard, maybe just a tad more bushy, and the same thick black hair fell in layered strands across his forehead.  His eyebrows, also just as thick and black as my memory recalled, were pinched together to emphasize the tight frown that pulled his lips down. 

He didn’t look happy to see me.  Actually, on second thought, he didn’t have on much of an expression at all, outside of the pursed lips.  Okay, so his stare was rather cold, if you want to get technical.  Involuntarily, I let the book in my hands fall to the floor with a light thud, as I stood up on shaky legs.

Hawke just stood there, leaning against the doorframe with that closed-off look on his face.  He was letting the wind from outside sneak in, and some of the remaining flowers blew away from the doorway, floating closer to where I was trying stand still.  He looked me up and down, and I stiffened under his scrutiny.  Suddenly, I didn’t know how to hold myself.  I shifted feet once or twice under the weight of his indifferent stare, while my heart went a couple rounds with my chest.  I also became doubly aware of the small tremors that were starting up in my hands, just like old times.

“Hawke,” I breathed.  And just like that, he looked me in the eyes. I thought I saw something change in his gaze, but the next second it was gone. 

Hawke moved his head to look around the room instead.  Nodding at the flowers, he said, “This your work?”  It wasn’t really a question, if the increasingly unimpressed look on his face meant anything.

“Uh…kinda…had help,” I spoke slowly, still a bit in shock at the random appearance of such an old (and important) face.  Emotions I hadn’t felt in a long time were bubbling up inside of me, no matter how hard I tried to push them down.  I bit the inside of my cheek, I had no way of knowing exactly how this conversation was about to play out.  In any case, I tried not to be obvious and look at the multiple exits afforded to me by Cullen’s office.

“So, you’ve been well, yes?  Enjoying your Inquisition?”  His tone was bordering on sarcasm.  Actually, scratch that.  It was full-on sarcastic.  Between the raised eyebrows and the nasty twist of his lips that accompanied his words, there was no denying his underlying meaning.  And, he didn’t wait for me to answer.

“Actually, no need to tell me.  While you couldn’t be arsed to write, Varric has been supplying me with more than enough information to know just how well you’ve been.”

“I…whatchu doin’ here?”

“To help the Inquisition, of course.  I apologize if my presence ruins your grand time.”

“Y–”  Taking a deep breath, I started over, “Your presence isn’t ruining anything.”  Lie.  It was only ruining eight years’ worth of emotional repression. 

“Ah, there it is.  It hasn’t even been a full minute, and you’re already lying,” Hawke sneered.  “Just like old times.”

I didn’t let him see me cringe.  I kept my face carefully blank, and I think I did a pretty decent job of it even though I wanted to break down. 

“What do you want, Hawke?  I have to–”

His eyes pierced into my skin; sharp and unforgiving.  It was good.  The angrier, the better.  At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

“Eight years of silence and that’s what you say to me?” he spat.  “You know what I want.”

“No, I don’t,” I said, apathetically.  “There’s nothing I have to offer.  None that would satisfy you.”

“Satisfy me? Maker’s Breath, Fitz, what the fuck does that mean?” He took one angry step closer to me, and I took a step back.  Hawke glared at me, and I just responded to it with a frown.

“You’re not going to tell me where you’ve been this whole time? What you’ve been doing?”  He took a breath.  “Why you left?”

“You just said Varric’s already told you everything.”

Hawke started advancing on me again, forcing me to back up behind Cullen’s desk.  Flowers were kicked up, and one of Hawke’s feet made contact with my fallen bag.  The bag flew a few feet away, flowers puffing up out of the bag and falling around it in a messy pile.  I frowned harder at Hawke.

“I just picked those up,” I said with reproach.

“Oh, you would care about a bunch of fucking flowers, at a time like this, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, the Commander threate–”

“Fuck Cullen!” Hawke yelled, and I jumped back.  Looking at the door, nervously, I waited for a soldier to come flying in.  None did, but I was still anxious that someone would walk in.

“Okay, fuck.  Sorry, please don’t yell,” I pleaded.  Hawke made a face at me.

“What, worried about your reputation? Or, should I say, your lack of reputation?”

I stared at him.  I could feel myself closing off again.  This confrontation was worse than my mind had ever let me imagine.  I knew Hawke would be mad, I’d have to be insane to think he’d be fucking chill if he’d ever saw me again.  I just kind of overestimated my ability to handle my own goddamn emotions.  I had thought I’d be able to not let it get to me, but it really fucking was.

“I know what I did hurt you,” Hawke interrupted me with a scoff, but I continued on, raising my voice in case he tried to talk over me (which looked likely), “and I have no excuse for it.  But the past is the past.  There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

I wanted to tell him to just give up on me, not talk to me ever again, just hate my guts or fucking forget about me.  It would make it so much easier.  All my mind was thinking about was that it was too late to be friends; our feelings went too deep.  And to top it off, I honestly still thought it was only a matter of time before I’d be gone, forever if I had my way.  If I let everything heal between us, and pursue another relationship with him, it would just ruin everything all over again.  I couldn’t be the cause of his heartbreak a second time.  If I let him stay angry, he might come to hate me.  At least then, when I left once more, it wouldn’t hurt him whatsoever.  That was just my rationale back then.

“What bullshit,” Hawke hissed at me, his hands clenched into fists as he stood across from me, with only Cullen’s desk as a buffer. “I’m not asking for excuses, and I don’t want to hear,” he pitched his voice into what I could only assume was a mimicry of me, “‘Oh, well, it’s been so long, we might as well just forget about it’.  There’s no way I’m letting you go without a proper explanation.  Not this time.”

“I don’t even have a proper explanation.  Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh well, wouldn’t be the first time.  Don’t worry about it, I’m used to the disappointment.  So, why don’t you just tell me why the fuck you left one day, without a word? Or a blighted note?”

Biting my bottom lip, I couldn’t stop the glare from forming on my face.  He wasn’t going to pull any of his punches, apparently.  If he wanted to fight, I wouldn’t deny him of it.  Like I said before, it would be better if he stayed angry anyways.  I didn’t want him to forgive me, no matter what my heart said.  I didn’t deserve it, and I certainly didn’t think I could keep away from him if we made up.  I’d have to be cold, an utter bastard, but it was for the best if it meant I wouldn’t have to just hurt him again later on. 

It was gonna fucking hurt, but I knew just how to keep Hawke angry.

“Maybe it had to do with the fact that you were suffocatin’ me?  Did you ever think about that?” I spat, just as angrily as he’d sounded just moments before.  “You wouldn’t let me walk two goddamn feet without tellin’ me to be careful.  And if I did somethin’ you didn’t approve of, you would fuckin’ pull me away from my friends and treat me like a fuckin’ child.  Always tellin’ me not to do this or that.  You were always actin’ like I was so fuckin’ stupid.”

I thought he was going to push the desk into the wall, I honestly did.  Instead, he just slammed both fists on its surface.  Papers went flying, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were two neat indents where Hawke’s fists made contact.  He was fucking fuming.

“I was watching your fucking back,” he nearly shouted, throwing a finger in my face as he continued to lean over Cullen’s desk.  “If you weren’t always putting yourself in the way of danger, I wouldn’t have had to act so overbearing.  I wouldn’t have had to ‘suffocate’ you, you poor thing.  Oh, and let’s not forget, I wouldn’t have had to save your sorry ass all the time, either.”

“I never asked ya to treat me like a child and I never once asked ya to save me.  I wasn’t just some kid you had to protect all the time.”

“I never sai–” Hawke cut himself off, huffing and shaking his head. “This is pointless.  You’re refusing to even listen to me.  Just like that last time.”

“So, stop trying to make me listen then, jesus fuck.”  I took a deep breath, steeling myself in order to say what had to be said.

“Just move on.  We grew apart.  And then I grew up.  We’ll never be able to go back to what we used to be, and you know it.”

Hawke went still, looking at me more intently than ever.  There was a moment of silence, and then, “Is that what you want?”

I didn’t let myself hesitate.

“Yeah.”

Like earlier, I saw something flash across Hawke’s eyes, some emotion I didn’t want to recognize, but he shut it down quickly.  His face became a mask of indifference, just like in the beginning of this confrontation, but he still couldn’t completely hide the anger that remained in his eyes.

“So be it.”

I watched Hawke storm out of the room, flinching when the door shut with a resounding slam.  It rattled some of the things in Cullen’s office, and some dust fell from the dilapidated second floor of the small tower. 

I looked at all the flowers that still littered the floor, from the bag Hawke had kicked to the book that remained open next to its shelf. 

I went over to the abused bag, and began picking flowers once more.

~

You’re probably thinking I’m an absolute asshole.  A complete bastard.  A despicable shit of a person. 

It’s okay.  Think the worst, because fact is I’ve probably already beat you to it, in name-calling and in the creativity of the curses. 

I wallowed in self-hate for a few days, avoiding everyone.  Especially Varric.

Hawke probably told him everything that was said between us.  I didn’t think I’d be able to take the knowing look in Varric’s eyes, and I knew damn well that my words wouldn’t fool him like they fooled Hawke.  Varric would see them for exactly what they were; seeds of hate and disgust that I had planted in Hawke’s heart.  Varric would also immediately see the self-destruction behind my actions.  The only saving grace I had was knowing that he wouldn’t involve himself in our fight.  He would corner me, eventually, but he wouldn’t get in the middle of something that wasn’t his business.  That’s what I thought anyways.

~

I don’t think I have to say how awkward it was after my spat (ie: reuinion) with Hawke.

Especially since he started frequenting the tavern afterwards.  In the weeks that he’d apparently been in Skyhold, hiding out god knows where, he’d literally never stepped foot in the tavern.  Now, though, after confronting me, it was apparently free game.  I had to start peeking through the doorway before going in, just to make sure he wasn’t there.

Since that technique was faulty, and drew a lot of weird looks, I ended up nicking bottles from the kitchens and just drinking anywhere _but_ the tavern.

Sera didn’t get it, of course, and neither did the Chargers, whom I used to drink with daily.  I had to shrug them off more than a few times, and I knew my behavior was suspicious, but I couldn’t help it.

I was stuck in Skyhold.  That part was bad enough, right?  But, now, I found myself stuck in Skyhold, _with_ _Hawke_.  You can imagine the inner turmoil and angst radiating from my very being.  I had to ward off Cole multiple times, as well.

Sadly, he’s a hard kid to shake.  He was always able to find me during those days.

“Cole, can you not?” I asked, not moving from the mess of blankets I had myself wrapped in.

“The Inquisitor is worried,” the boy said.  “She wants to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk.  To _anyone_. Hashtag, you too.”

“But, you should,” Cole stressed his words, perched at the end of my bed like an unsightly bird.  “You’re not like the others, I can’t heal your hurt the usual way.  You have to talk to feel better.”

I let out a laugh, and it sounded wild and slightly crazy.

“Hey, kid, I hate to break it to ya,” I said, finally removing the covers enough to peer out at him.  He stared back, just as wide-eyed as usual.  “But, I got a limit for the talky-feely shit, and I already hit my quota for the next century, so don’t waste your time.”

“I don’t understand.”

I sighed. “Cole, this isn’t somethin’ I can talk about.  Talking isn’t gonna help.”

“Yes, it will,” he replied, sounding surprisingly stubborn about it.  “You haven’t even _tried_ it.  _He_ wants to talk.  He wants–”

“ _Fuckin’ don’t_!” I yelled, surprising the kid with the sheer aggression in my tone.  “Did I fuckin’ ask you?  Fuckin’ _shit_.”

Cole stared back at me, sullenly, but he stayed quiet.  He let the silence go on after my outburst, just long enough for me to start feeling guilty.  I didn’t apologize though.

I was the only one who jumped when there was a knock at the door.  A second later, Varric’s voice broke through, muffled from the wooden barrier. 

“Scholar, open up.”

I looked to Cole, and he stared back.  I didn’t break eye contact, even when Varric threatened to pick the lock.

“Good luck,” I muttered, glancing over at the chair I’d shoved under the doorknob after Cole had broken in.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cole shift.  When I looked back at him, I saw that he’d followed my line of sight, and was now staring at the chair.

“Cole, don’t you da–” Cole hopped of the bed, and sprinted for the door.  I cursed, and fell off the bed when I attempted to chase him.  I still had blankets wrapped around my legs.

As soon as he reached the doorway, Cole rudely pushed the chair to the side, and he had the door unlocked in a matter of seconds.

“He’s not _listening_ ,” he cried, looking out the now open door, and appealing to Varric for help.  “Please, he _has_ to listen.”

Varric didn’t look all that surprised to see Cole in my room, and his gaze was solemn when it finally reached me.  I’d sat up from the heap of blankets I’d been encased in.  I hadn’t bothered to stand; preferring to just sit on the floor, leaning back against my bed.  I looked at both of them gloomily. 

The dwarf entered the room, shutting the door gently behind him.  I watched him hesitate for a second, before going over to the chair Cole had unceremoniously shoved out of the way. 

Pulling the chair to a spot in the center of my small room, Varric straddled the chair backwards, resting his forearms on the back so that they hung off in a casual manner.  His expression was anything but casual, though; he looked down on me, sternly now, and told me to get up.

Extracting myself from my nest, I kicked away the blankets and sat on my bed.

“Scholar,” Varric began, but I cut him off.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would’ve done something stupid,” he was quick to retort.  “Just like what you’re doing right now.”

“I’m wallowing.  I’m allowed to wallow.”  I turned my head towards the wall, crossing my arms.  I couldn’t stop myself from adding on, in a mutter, “S’not like there’s anything else to do.  Fuckin’ stuck here.”

“Oh, cut the shit, Scholar,” Varric said, not unkindly.  “You two have had this coming for a long time now, and you’re both acting like children.”

“Give me a break!” I whined, turning back to face him.

“And why should I?” he snapped. “Give me one reason why I should feel sorry for you, kid?”

I stared back glumly, but avoided his eyes.  I looked away after a minute.

“He wants to, but he’s scared.”

I jolted, having forgotten Cole was still in the room.

“Shut the fuck up, Cole!”

“Hey!” Varric rose his voice over mine, giving me a reproachful look.  “Don’t yell at the kid.  He’s trying to help you, which is more than you can ask for.”

I bit my lip, looking between the two of them; from the expression of anger on Varric’s face to the sorrowful one on Cole’s.  I looked down.

“Sorry, man.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, wringing his hands and beginning to pace around the small room. “Just let me _help_.”

“Go help someone who deserves it,” I shot back, still not looking up.  My hands curled into fists, and I stared at the protrusion of my knuckles, and the light scars that rested there.

“Don’t say that,” he cried.  “You deserve to ask for–”

“No, I don’t!”

I broke.  I looked back up at them, with angry tears running down my face.  I tried to wipe them away, but I couldn't stop myself from crying.

“I know what I did,” I all but yelled.  “And this is…it’s jus’ the consequences.  I knew what I signed up for.”

Varric tried to get me to settle, with a gentle and quiet voice.  “Take a breath, Scholar.  You’re not making sense.  Can you calm down, and explain?”

“No!”

Varric sighed, leaning forward with one hand to his forehead.  “Alright, then, can you tell me what you ‘signed up for’?”

“Hawke hates me,” I bit out, tears still falling.  I stopped trying to get rid of them.

“Scholar, he doesn’t hate you,” Varric tried to assure me, sounding urgent.

“He has to.  I want him to.”

“No, you don’t.” Cole’s voice was sad, coming out in a sigh that was heavier than I thought possible.

“I do, too!”

Cole opened his mouth, probably to start a game of back and forths, but Varric didn’t let us continue.

“Scholar, listen to me,” Varric forced me to look at him.  He’d gotten up from his chair, moving to sit next to me on my bed.  He put a hand on my shoulder, and even though I was expecting it, I flinched.

“You’re a good kid,” he said.  “No – you’re a good man.  And just because you’ve fucked up sometimes, doesn’t mean you can’t be forgiven.”

“I didn’t ask to be–”

He shushed me, and went on. “Just let me say this.”

“You can think all you want about how much Hawke hates you, but, shit, that’ll never happen.  Not in a million years.”

“He’s a little angry right now, but that won’t last forever.  Just look at him and Rivaini.  He was angry at her for a while, after that stunt with the Qunari, but they’re still thick as thieves today.”

“Yeah, but Isabela and Hawke weren’t–” I didn’t let myself finish that sentence.

“Oh,” Cole’s voice pitched high, as if he realized something big.  “I heard that one.”

I glared at him, without any heat.  I felt exhausted.

“I’m tired.”  I moved away from Varric, biting back another flinch when he kept his grip on my shoulder.

“You’ve got to leave this room soon, Scholar.  I’ll let you sleep, but I’m waking you up first thing in the morning and we’re going for a walk.”

I nodded, just to get him to leave.  It worked, even if I did just resign myself to actually going out tomorrow.  Varric left, even shepherding Cole out as well.  The kid looked back at me one last time, his expression unsettled.

When the door shut, I laid back in bed, but I didn’t go to sleep.

~

The first time I was let out of Skyhold, in forever might I add, was to join Amrita on a trip to Crestwood.  It was maybe a few days after Varric began forcing me out of my room on a regular basis, and I knew my reclusive wallowing was the main cause for my freedom.  Solas was going too, which I think was also a big factor in my sudden invite.  After all, the first I heard about the trip was on the morning of.

“What am I even here for?” I complained to Amrita’s back as we trouped through the grassy plains of Crestwood, rain soaking our every movement.  She was doing a good job at ignoring my pestering, though I was having fun with it.  “Does this mean I’m not on lockdown anymore?”  I continued talking when no one answered me.

“Even if you won’t let me work, I’m still just a scout, you know.  This has gotta be too important for a lowly grunt like me.”

“Oh, hush.  You know that’s not true.”

“But, it is!  I mean, I don’t even remember why we’re out here.  Or why you brought me along, for that matter.  You should let me go to–”

Amrita looked back at me when my words caught up to her, making her face lapse into an expression of astounded confusion.  She squinted at me, before cutting me off.

“What do you mean you don’t remember?  Are you saying you don’t even know why we’re here?”  I shrugged, ignoring the stare I could feel coming from Solas’ direction.  I don’t even need to say I was ignoring the one coming from Varric.

“Oh, dear.  I believe he truly doesn’t.  Tell me, Fitz, do you listen?  Ever?”

“Stuff it, Vint-face.”

Dorian, who’d been walking next to me, huffed, but did shut his face, which was surprising.  Amrita, however, continued talking.

“We’re meeting Hawke’s Grey Warden friend.  It’s very secretive, so we’ve got to be careful.”  Amrita shook her head.  “Honestly, Fitz.  Varric and I were just discussing directions.  And we talked about the trip the morning we left!  And every day since leaving.  I know I told you what we were doing.”

“All I remember from that morning was that you dragged me outta dead sleep, and I was hungover as fuck.  Give me a break,” I replied, grouchily.  I thought for a minute and went on.  “Wait, that still doesn’t explain why you brought me.”  I kind of wanted to see what excuse she would come up with, since we were officially _not_ talking about my thing with Hawke, and nobody was supposed to so much as know about our relationship.  Except for, you know, like one third of Amrita’s inner circle.

“Oh, that.”  Amrita waved one lofty hand.  “Varric said it would be good for you to get out of Skyhold for a bit.  We figured this trip would be perfect because you’re good at dealing with sensitive information.  And we can trust you not to gossip, since apparently you won’t even remember it by the end of the day.”  I interrupted to tell her to fuck off, and she laughed before finishing.  “And the journey isn’t too strenuous, or long.  Besides, Crestwood isn’t as dangerous as most areas, so you’ll be fine.  Don’t worry, we’ve taken care of the living dead already.”  She gave me a grin before looking back around to what lay ahead of us.

“Ah,” I said, replaying her words in my head.  The bit about Varric stuck out, so I couldn’t help but side-eye the dwarf suspiciously, though he just grinned and shrugged like he was completely innocent.  I knew immediately that he was not.

“So, then, why’d you bring Dorian?  He never shuts his mouth.”

“Excuse you, I have the restraint of a saint,” Dorian retorted, giving me a haughty look.  “Case in point, I haven’t yet tried to beat you over the head with my staff.”

“Kinky, bro, but not my style.”

Me and Varric snickered, while Dorian sputtered and Amrita just shook her head.  I thought I heard a huff coming from Solas’ direction, but I might’ve been imagining things.

“Such a crude mind you possess, Fitz.  It befits your barbaric mannerisms.”  Dorian sniffed, after he had composed himself (which didn’t actually take long).  He was probably still sore about the book thing from ages ago.

“Yeah, but that’s coming from the guy who literally just said he was gonna beat me with his ‘staff’.  Sounds more like somethin’ Bull would be into, am I right?”  I grinned at Dorian, slyly, and was rewarded by the sight of the deep flush that colored his face.

“Why, you–”

“Fitz!  Leave Dorian alone!” Amrita reprimanded, shooting me a disapproving glance.  “Unless you want me to tell him about that time you challenged Sera to a drinking game and ended up on the roof of the tavern.  With no clothes on.”

Dorian crowed, and I gave Amrita a mock scowl.  “Yo, not cool!  I still had some clothes on!  And, how’d you even know about that?  No one was awake, and, hell, you were in Orlais!”

“Ahem, not everyone was sleeping, Scholar.  You and Sera were being rather loud,” Varric cut in with a smirk.

“Varric! How could y – wait, never mind.  I’m not surprised.”

“Well, I suppose it’s better than the time you tried…what did you call it?  Boarding?” Solas decided to break his silence, entering our conversation and effectively making me feel under attack.

I groaned, slapping a hand to my forehead.  Dorian was laughing harder than ever, even as he pressed Solas for that particular story.

“ _Skate_ boarding, grandpa.  It’s called skateboarding,” I said, a bit reluctantly.  Mostly because the story did not in fact include an actual skateboard, but rather an abandoned plank of wood that I had convinced myself (while drunk) was a real-life skateboard.  It was embarrassing, and ended with me kicking a piece of wood down the front steps of Skyhold's main hall at some startled nobles.  Solas managed to get me away from the staircase before I fell or something, but let's just say I made a complete ass of myself that night.

“Maker, what were you even thinking?”  Dorian chuckled, finally calming down after Solas ratted me out.

“’Bout your ugly face, made me wanna jump off–”  My grumblings were cut off as Dorian ‘accidentally’ elbowed me in the gut.  He laughed at me when I tried to get him back, and he simply moved towards the front of our party rather than fight me.  I liked to think he was scared of me.

It wasn’t long before we made it to the right cave, even though there were many of them.  In fact, the only reason we knew we had the right cave was because Hawke stood right by the entrance.

I wanted to _kill_ Varric. 

Of course, Hawke didn’t pay me any mind.  He was very professional and spoke with Amrita about whatever the fuck we were here for like the civil bastard he was.  When they’d finished with the talking, he ushered her into the cavern.  It was only after that did he actually look at me.  For, like, a second.  His gaze brushed right over me, before landing on Varric, whom he greeted enthusiastically.

Following Dorian and Solas, I practically sped into the cave.  I didn’t know what Varric was playing at, or Amrita for that matter.  She knew all about my thing with Hawke (it went with the other-world story), so she had to have known what Varric was up to.  In any case, this was not a good time for me and Hawke to be seeing each other.

However, as we congregated in the dumb cave waiting to see this Grey Warden, Hawke didn’t so much as address me.  I can’t say if he didn’t look at me either, because I was very studious in keeping my attention away from him.  At all times.  Even if it meant I was staring intently at bits of rock on the ground rather than anything living.

If was a relief when the Grey Warden finally did pop out, even if he did aim his sword at Amrita. He said he was sorry though.

“Oh, well, you know how it is.  Can never be too careful, blah blah apologies,” was his very sincere response.  I liked him immediately.

Talk went to business real fast after introductions.  Not that I remember anything that was said, since the familiar feeling of haziness hit me as soon as Amrita began asking questions. 

~

I blanked out in that cave.  I didn’t hear what was being said, or exchanged, or whatever.  I was gone for however long the conversation lasted, because the next thing I knew, Amrita had a hand on my shoulder.  It was like all the times before, but this time her eyes held just the slightest bit of panic.  The only positive thing in all this was that I didn’t black out this time; so at least I didn’t cause a scene by falling dramatically into a dead faint.  Even still, I think I took longer than usual to wake from the blanking spell; though I rarely got them anymore.  Usually I just passed out these days.  Anyways, I really wanted to groan out loud.  Not only did I have a handful of people looking at me with varying levels of worry, but Hawke was there.

“Fitz?  Are you alright?” Amrita tried to speak as quietly as possible, though it was pointless.  I pressed my hands into my eyes, trying to will away the onset of a nasty headache. 

“Yeah, sure.  I’m good.”

Amrita hesitated, awkwardly.  She didn’t believe me, of course, but she also knew that now wasn’t the time.

She nodded. “Right, well, let’s head out then.  I believe we have much to talk about over at Skyhold.”

She led us out of the cave, after a short goodbye to the Grey Warden, Alistair something.  I was the last to follow, right behind Dorian, but an arm stopped me. 

A very familiar, very muscular arm.  And, attached to said arm was a very aggressively worried Hawke.  His current anger at me mixed with his worry in a weird way; he pretty much just looked pissed off.  That was probably because I was avoiding looking at him straight-on or whatever, but it's not like it mattered.  I wanted him to be pissed off, not worried.

“What the hell was that?”

“Let me get past, Hawke,” I sighed, staring at the gravel.

“Are you injured?  Or sick?” Hawke pressed, not moving his arm from where it cut across the cavern doorway.  I looked up slightly, to see his arm flex and his grip on the doorframe tighten.

“No.”

“Well, have you been to a healer?  Because what you just did back there?  That’s not normal.”

“It’s not something a healer can fix.  I’ll be fine.”

“Oh,” Hawke let out a huff of dark laughter.  “Really?  Oh, Maker, Fitz.  That’s not something for you to just decide.  A healer, though?  Healing is their actual _profession_ , and despite your strange beliefs, they do know what they’re doing.  I’m sure you must remember that?”

I pursed my lips, knowing that he was trying to remind me of all the times Anders fixed me up.  But, knife wounds and bruises are different from what’s fucking with me now.  It went deep; too deep for any kind of healer to fix.  I knew not even Solas had the skill to help me.  It wasn’t something I really enjoyed thinking about, so I was getting antsy for this whole thing to be over.

“I do remember, thanks,” I gritted out, staring at his out-stretched arm.  “Now, let me through.”

Hawke tensed his arm and, suddenly, he brought it back, only to slam his fist into the doorframe.  Dirt fell from the ceiling and onto us and I heard something rattle from somewhere behind me, though I didn't turn around to look.  I’d stiffened at the sudden movement, stiffened even more at the impact it made.  I didn’t want to have another argument, not in some dank cave.

“You know,” Hawke said through clenched teeth. “You could, at the very least, look at me when we’re talking.”

No, I really couldn’t.  I didn’t get the chance to respond.  Alistair must’ve decided he’d had enough of the little domestic spat we were having in his cave.

“Well, this sounds like a fun...conversation, but, uh, maybe you two can take this elsewhere?  Preferably far away from me and my delicate ears?  Before one of you starts yelling?”

“I dunno, think you can wait til we get to Skyhold?” I asked Hawke, looking at his chin.  Even though my gaze was still angled downwards, I could clearly see the heavy frown he wore.

“I’ve already waited eight years, haven’t I?  I think I can handle another couple days.”

~

Needless to say, as soon as we returned to Skyhold, I was completely ready to start the Avoidance Olympics.  However, that plan immediately went down the tube after Varric cornered me.  Oh, he cornered Hawke, too; he didn't get off easy either.  In fact, Varric cornered us both at the same time and basically let us have it.  Apparently, we were all going to act like ‘mature adults’ or something, and I think I can speak for both me _and_ Hawke when I say that Varric was pretty intimidating as he lectured us.  As ordered by Varric, we were going to be civil whether we liked it or not.  I wasn’t too torn up because, for one thing, Varric’s idea of being mature entailed all of us going to the bar together.  With other people.  I was relieved because it meant that Hawke wasn’t going to jump down my throat while there were witnesses.

I sat at our table a bit sullenly, but I wasn’t being too bratty or anything.  I even nodded to Blackwall, who had wandered over at the insistence of Varric.  It helped that I had Sera sitting next to me; a nice buffer, if a little overbearing.  The bar was loud, and it was already getting pretty crazy, even though it was still kind of early.  As time passed by, I couldn’t stop myself from looking around like a delinquent.  I wanted to get out of there; Varric may have forced civility onto me and Hawke, but the awkwardness was alive and kicking.  Hawke was doing way better than me.  In fact, he was fucking killing it.  Him and Bull got along just great, like old friends.  Not that I was bitter or anything.  But, between the occasional glances _he_ was giving me, and the nudges I was getting from Varric, I wanted out. 

I was nursing my bottle of whatever the hell alcohol Krem had shoved into my hands, and actually enjoying it.  The alcohol, I mean.  I’m pretty sure it was the closest thing to vodka that I’d ever had in this world, though I’m not sure if I’m remembering the taste right.  I’d only had vodka a couple times back home, like once or twice, so I didn’t trust my memory all that much.  Anyways, I was thinking about that when Blackwall leaned in and addressed me.

“Have your eye on anyone in particular?”

I looked back at the man dully, not quite catching on.  “What?”

The man grinned at me, and it held a knowing edge to it.  “Just wondering if there’s anyone here that caught your attention.  You seemed rather distracted.”

I raised my eyebrows, scowling to my left when Sera started laughing.  “Fitzy?  Nah, Beardy, you don’t know what yer talking ‘bout!”

Blackwall laughed, but kept going.  “You know, I think that lass over there has been looking at you.  You should go talk to her.”

I made a face.  “Why the fuck would I do that?  I dunno her.”

Now Blackwall raised his eyebrows at me.  “Well, you’ll never become a man with that attitude.”

“Uh, I been a man for like ten years, bro.  I dunno whatchu talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Not according to that demon in Emprise du Lion.”  Blackwall laughed heartily, most likely at the memory of that bitch demon calling me out and suddenly I got what he was talking about.

“Oh,” I said, drawing the word out.  “You talkin’ ‘bout me bein’ a virgin.”

Not even a second after I said that, I became aware of the fact that the whole table had been paying attention to our conversation. 

Krem spat out his beer, nearly spraying me, and Dalish toppled off the bench, clinging onto Sera in an attempt to avoid the fall.  Sera dropped her mug, and then immediately hit me on the shoulder, while it rolled across the table to where Varric sat.

“No. Friggin’. Way!”

I shrugged her off, leaning over to the other side and holding my bottle away to keep it safe from her rough handling. 

“Back the fuck off.”

“There’s no way!  Beardy, why didn’t you tell us before?  You bastard!”

Blackwall was too busy laughing to care that Sera was yelling at him.  Meanwhile, the Chargers we were drinking with started talking all at once; asking me if it was true and all that shit.  I glared at them, beginning to feel defensive.  It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Come on, boys,” Bull started, laughing nearly as hard as Blackwall.  “The kid doesn’t even know when someone’s flirting with him.  It’s obvious.”

Krem turned thoughtful, though he still looked like he was in disbelief.  “Fair enough, Chief, but damn.  Wait, how old are you, Fitz?”

“Fuck off.”

“I’d say twenty-four,” Dalish put in, considering me.  “Still outrageously old to not have done it.”

Sera made a reemergence; forcibly grabbing my attention by hanging off my shoulders. 

“You haven’t done _any_ of it, Fitzy?” she practically screamed in my ear.  I shoved her off, pushing her into Dalish. 

“Scholar’s twenty-six by now,” Varric put in.  I made a face.  I’d been avoiding looking at him, and by association; Hawke.  I glanced over at his words, ready to glare at them.  Varric, while definitely seeing the humor in this situation, wasn’t laughing.  Not really.  His eyes were sad.

When I looked, quickly, at Hawke; the man wasn’t even looking at me.  He was looking in his mug with a concentration that I didn’t want to think about.  I looked away before he could catch me staring.

I looked to the side, and noticed that Bull was watching.  He wasn’t joining in with the others anymore, as they were now trying to pick out a partner for me.  He sent a grin my way when I looked back at him, so I scowled extra hard.

Dalish leaned over Sera, waving a hand in my face to get my attention.  “Come on, Fitz!  Focus!  Man or woman?”

I turned my scowl on her now, as well as on Sera, who had begun trying to throw an arm over my shoulders again. 

“If I wanted to fuck someone, I woulda done it already,” I told them, hoping it was blunt enough to get them to chill.

Sera snorted, nearly choking as she had just taken a long swig of her beer, and she punched me for it. 

“What are you waiting for then?”  Krem asked, in between guffaws. 

“Nothin’.”

“Aw, don’t get all stiff now!” Dalish exclaimed, pouting at me from around Sera. 

“Yeah, Fitzy, you’re missin’ out!”

“Nah,” I said, finishing off my vodka-like drink in one long gulp.  It burned, and I couldn’t stop the face I made this time.  “Fuck off.”

They kept at it for the rest of the night; on and off, I mean.  It was all in good fun, and I wasn’t as annoyed as I made myself sound.  I probably told them all to fuck off at least five times by the time I finally escaped from their clutches, but each time they paid me and my curses no mind.  I guessed it was because I talked like that all the time, and I wondered if I was going to have to get more creative with my insults.

It wasn’t until they tried to set me up that I finally got a fair bit annoyed. 

They’d sent me up to the bar for another round, and as I was waiting for Cabot to shell out a full table’s worth of alcohol, a woman sauntered up to me.  She cocked her hip to the side, leaning against the bar.  I only noticed her because she was standing way too close to me.  I scowled for the breach in personal space, and I wasn’t going to say anything about it; not until I felt her hand on my arm. 

I shied away, giving her a weird look.  “Um, what the fuck, lady?”

She blinked, momentarily surprised or something, before grinning at me.  I think she even batted her eyelashes at me, which took me off guard just because her face looked so weird.  Nobody really looked at me like that and she was still too close for comfort, so I couldn’t really _not_ notice.

“Your friends said you wanted company tonight,” she said, in a low voice.  I glanced over at my table, where Krem waved and Sera made inappropriate gestures. 

“Oh, they’re just fuckin’ around.  Sorry for them.”

“It’s alright, hun.  I’d be more than happy to get to know you.  I’ve never been with an elf before,” she replied, leaning even closer.  “If you know what I mean.”

I made a face.  Luckily, Cabot gave me my tray of beers, with a rude snort might I add, so I had an excuse to escape.  “Nah, thanks though.”  I didn’t look back.

“That was fucked up, you guys,” I spat, while the table erupted into laughter.  “Fuckin’ cut the shit, okay?”

“Fine, fine!” Krem conceded, still laughing at me.  “You just looked so confused, like you never had a woman throw herself at you before.”

I settled into my chair, and scowled at him.  “That’s ‘cuz I haven’t.  It was creepy, she touched me.”

“Aw, nah, she didn’t!” Sera put in, obnoxiously loud. “You’d have known if she _touched_ you.”

A slam from across the table made us jump.  We looked over, to see Hawke glaring over at us.  He’d slammed his mug down, obviously having enough of this particular joke.

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” he gritted out as if it were painful.  He didn’t look at me.  “Fitz has made it clear he’s not interested in any of this, so leave him be.”

I flushed, quickly knocking back my drink to avoid responding or something.  Sera just waved Hawke off.

“Pfft,” she let out, making a face at the man.  “You’re just–”

I elbowed her. “Yo, shut the fuck up.  I think that lady is singin’ ‘bout you.”

Sera fixed up her face, doing that thing drunks do when they try to think.  “Urgh.  I’ve already heard this song.  Creepy.  Ya think she’s tryin’ to chat me up?”

Successfully distracted, me and Sera began some drunken gossiping about the bard.

~

“Creepy!”

I jumped, and automatically elbowed Sera for the shout.  “We friggin’ get it!  She ain’t even playin’ the song anymore!”

“No,” she replied, elbowing me back. “I mean, _Creepy_.  It.”  She pointed and I looked back only to see Cole standing a few paces away, watching our table.

“Yo, Cole, what up?” I waved at the kid, too drunk to really think about why he was there.  He looked at me as soon as I called out to him, and took a few steps towards us. 

I latched onto him once he was close enough, making room on the bench for him to squeeze in between me and Krem.  I ignored Sera’s obnoxious groan, and leaned against Cole.

“Wassup, dude?” I probably yelled into his ear.  He leaned away from me, just the slightest bit, and in my haze I missed the intense look on his face.  But, he wasn’t looking at me; his gaze was directed across the table.

“ _Maker_ , he has no idea, and he won’t even _look_ at me,” Cole said, though the room was so loud, it was hard to hear.  “Waiting, waiting forever just to see him again, and he won’t even look at me.”

“Stop that,” I said, putting a hand over the kid’s mouth, and peering down at him in confusion.  “What da fuck you talkin’ ‘bout now?”

Cole tried to talk, even though my hand was blocking him, and I started giggling, madly.  Across from us I heard some muttering, though I wrote it off as plain old tavern noise.  I almost fell over when someone tried to gently push me off of Cole.

“Alright, unhand the kid, Scholar,” Varric was saying, taking hold of my hand and removing it from Cole’s mouth.  I blinked confusedly, but Varric kept going before I could say anything.  “Come on, kid, let’s get you out of here.  You don’t want to be in here.”

With that, Varric led Cole out of the tavern and I waved at their backs, even though they didn’t look back at me.  Then, Sera was all over me, and we started mock-fighting again when she tried to steal my vodka.

It might’ve been hours later, who knows, before we called it quits.  And by that, I mean Sera passed out and I was almost there too (from the booze, not by any sort of magically induced fuckery). 

Bull had one arm carrying Sera in a fireman’s lift, and the other holding onto me, making sure I didn’t fall over. 

“Help me out, kid, it either you stand, or I carry both of ya.”

“I’m standin’,” I said, as I tilted forwards dangerously.  I was saved not only by Bull’s doing, but by the other set of hands that entered our little circle.

“I’ve got him,” a deep voice said, as a pair of hands rested on my shoulders, keeping me upright.  I leaned back into the person’s chest almost immediately, and peered up at Bull as he removed his hand from my waist.  I wiggled my fingers at him, while he gave me and my new savior a long look.

“Yeah, you do.”  Bull turned, heading for the stairs, probably to deposit Sera in her room.

“Wait,” I said, though it wasn’t loud enough for Bull to hear, I turned a little to look at the person holding me.  “We should get markers, and draw on – oh, you.”

Hawke looked down at me, his face inscrutable.  His lips turned up, wryly, and he said, “Yes, it’s me.  The horror.”

“You’re notta whore,” I muttered, confused, and tried to push away from him.

“I’m not?  That’s great to hear.  I’ll be sure to tell everybody.”  Hawke didn’t let go.

“Lemme – I can walk!” I exclaimed, loudly, and stumbled out of his hold.  I didn’t quite make it through the threshold of the tavern, before I was falling again.  Hawke let me topple over this time, and when I hit the ground, suddenly the vodka started to make a comeback.  I barely crawled to the bushes in time before I was puking my guts up.

“Ugh,” I heaved, once I’d thrown up all I could.  I rolled over, content to just lay on the ground, until Hawke had to hover over me.  I waved one hand up at him.  “Begone.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, dryly.  “Come along, up you get.  You look absolutely pathetic.”

“You look as – absolutely pathetic,” I mimicked, struggling with pronunciations.

“Oh – really?  This is you piss-drunk?” Hawke said around a huff of laughter, as he leaned down and all but picked me up off the ground.  He steadied me, although I had to hang off of him more than anything.  Standing suddenly wasn’t possible for me.  “I suppose I’m not all that surprised.  At least you didn’t start a bar fight this time.”

“Shuddap.”  I tried to punch his shoulder, but I think all I hit was air.  “I never did that.”

“Mhmm, so the first time you ever got drunk, at the Hanged Man, that _wasn’t_ you trying to get into it with a man twice your size?”

“…don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Ah, I’m sure,” he said back, sarcastically, before sighing when all I did was try to pull away from him again.  “Alright, let’s not hang around then.  Do try to walk, Fitz.”

“I _am_ walkin’ – my room’s this way!”

“No, that leads to the ramparts.  Your room is in the complete opposite direction.”

“Oh…” I murmured, allowing him to direct me in the right way.  “That’s creepy.  That ya know that.”

“Yes, I do aim for that image,” was his deadpan response.

The trek to my room was forgettable, and probably uneventful, because the next thing I knew I was flopping onto my bed.

“I’m not tired,” I announced decisively, looking up at Hawke even though I could feel my eyes going cross-eyed. 

“Right,” he said, sounding like he was rolling his eyes.  “Just go to sleep, will you?”

“Nah.”

I kicked one leg out, almost catching Hawke in the thigh.  He caught my flailing limb though, and proceeded to remove my boot.

“What the fuck, leggo," I told him, trying to reclaim my foot and lapsing into cackling at the same time.

“I’m taking your boots off.  Just relax.”

“Oh.”

When I had both boots off, I pulled my legs up, and under my blanket.  I turned over in my bed a few times, wrapping my blanket around me, and I might’ve finally passed out, if not for the puttering going on around my room. 

~

I think Hawke left and came back, because I woke up the next morning to a bucket right next to my bed and a potion on my night table, along with a glass of water.  I blinked through the headache, and slowly my memories of the night before flooded my mind.

“ _Ugh_.”  I held one hand to my forehead, feeling mortified and just so fucking done with myself.

I wasn’t remembering the tavern, or even Hawke removing my boots.  It was what happened after, when I was in that weird state of hovering between the waking world and that of the passed-out drunk.

I’d opened one bleary eye to see Hawke setting something down on my night table lightly, though it was too dark to really see.  Hawke held a candle in one hand, and the rest of my room was bathed in complete darkness.

“Why’re you doin’ this?” I tried to ask, though it came out too slurred to make sense.  I repeated myself once more just in case he didn’t speak drunk, though he probably did by this point in his life.  Hawke hung out with mostly drunks.

“Go to sleep,” he said, resting a hand on my head.  I closed my eyes, and I think I made a weird sound, when he ruffled my hair.

I murmured the words.  He might not have even heard them, because I was partially eating my blanket at that point, and I had one half of my face squished up against my pillow.  But, I remember saying them, and I just knew it was too much to hope that Hawke hadn’t heard them. 

“Please don’t hate me.”

And, with that, I finally passed out for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha i was never gonna leave you guys hanging for long! i almost didnt think i'd get it out tonight tho...school is kicking my ass  
> absolutely thrilled with all the feedback, you guys rock!!! love yall!  
> ((also, i think my favorite line was when hawke yells 'fuck cullen!', poor guy can't get a break))


	42. Act II: Running From Problems (and I'm a Champ)

“How do you feel?”

I grimaced.  “This tea is nasty as fuck.”

Solas didn’t respond; he simply waited patiently for me to answer him seriously.  I put my cup down on the table in front of me with a heavy sigh. 

It was later on in the evening, not too long after my drunken escapades that had resulted in utter mortification on my part.  We were sitting in the little den located right under the library, and, by association, Leliana’s rookery.  Solas had claimed the room for his own a while ago, and he had clearly been busy since then.

He had this pretty dope looking mural going on; it looked like he was going to cover every inch of wall in the little room.  The whole rotunda had gotten darker with the later hour, though some light still filtered down from the library above, and we had a few candles lit on Solas’ desk as well.  I liked looking at his artwork, even though I didn’t really know what the deal was with all the wolves.  It looked bad-ass though, so I thought maybe that was what he was going for. 

“I guess I feel a lil’ better.” I muttered; leaning forward, my gaze flickering over the contents of Solas’ desk.  He had a lot of books stacked neatly on the wooden surface, and even more loose papers littered the area than the desk in his personal room.  “Jus’ got a headache.”

Solas was quiet for a moment.  “That draught should stop you from dreaming, in any case.” He paused to place his own teacup down.  “Cole said you had another nightmare last night.”

I nudged one of the papers aside, reading it.  “Eh.” 

Solas began saying something, but I interrupted quickly and without any remorse.

“What the…what’s ‘Elf-han Dee-s Falsis’?  Ugh, the fuck language is thi–”

“The title you are butchering is, ‘Elvehan Diis Falsis: Triew Metod Dracas’.”

“Bless you,” I said back, dryly.  Solas gave me a look, but otherwise didn’t comment on my (subtly) rude tone.  He didn't try to reclaim the conversation either.  Not yet.

“Ah, well, I’ve been in search of that particular tome for a while now.”

“Apparently, you’ve been lookin’ for a lot of tomes.” I said, raising my brows as I looked through the multiple pages of requests.  “I didn’t know we could ask for books.”

“Alas, asking does not guarantee requisition, though being friends with a certain Inquisitor does help.  I’ve added a few books on the metaphysical,” he told me.  “I thought they might interest you.”

“Huh,” I murmured, staring at the page in my hands for a moment long before pushing it away.  “Cool.”

I could feel Solas watching me, and I prepared myself mentally for whatever he was about to say.  He’d been gearing up for it since we sat down together anyways.  He was just trying to be tactful, or something.

“I attempted to look for you in the Fade,” he admitted, all but forcing me to look at him.  “I thought I might be able to help you wake up, before–”

“Don’t bother, uh, thanks though,” I said, waving a hand.  I paused for a split second before continuing.  “So, like, I guess you didn’t find me then?”  I laughed, awkwardly, and tried not to look suspicious.

Solas stared at me, and I held back a cringe.  I definitely looked suspicious.

“I did not,” the elf finally said, and I breathed a sigh of relief.  My last nightmare had been about my arrival in Thedas, those early days, and I never wanted anyone to see that shit.  I shuddered thinking about it, which I think Solas noticed, but that’s just a side note.  He kept talking.

“Believe it or not, I did feel your presence.  For a short moment,” he was telling me, a small edge of curiosity in his voice.  “It was as though a barrier existed around you and the section of the Fade you visited.  I have never heard of such a thing.”

I snorted; pushing his papers around some more, snooping for something more interesting to read.  “It’s gotta be the radiation, man.  My, like – what’re they called?–”  I thought for a moment, before I had an ‘ah-ha’ moment.  “Pheromones!  Yeah, they’re probably seeping with magic nullifying components.  Fuck that Fade shit _up_.”  I picked up a sheaf of paper, and squinted at it.

I looked up when I felt the elf’s stare practically burning into the top of my head.  I laughed, a bit clumsily, when I noticed his raised eyebrows.  “Heh, uh, I’ve been reading a lot of science books lately. Ha.  Pheromones are – uh, nevermind!”

I slapped the paper I’d tried investigating back down on the table, and stood up with an exaggerated stretch.  “Wow.  Oh man, I’m so tired.  Night, Solas.”

“You’re going to sleep?” he asked, looking surprised.  I shrugged, and started walking to the door.  “Don’t you typically visit the tavern around this time?”  
I threw him a scowl, but didn’t stop.  “Um, okay, contrary to common belief, I don’t go to the tavern every day.  See ya.”

Solas bid me goodnight, still sounding a bit dubious.  I felt annoyed, even though he had every reason to doubt me.  It’s true I spent more time than not drinking at the bar, ever since arriving in Skyhold.  But, all that changed when Hawke showed up.  Times were different with him hanging around.  I mean, I couldn’t very well hide from the man in a tavern, of all places, and especially not after that time I was still trying not to think about.  I hadn’t stepped foot in that damn bar since then.

I suppose Solas was right to doubt me.  I didn’t go to bed, though I supposed it is important to note that, when I eventually fell asleep that night, the mage’s draught did actually help me with the dreams (a bit).  Instead of my room, I headed to the barn.  I’m sure it’s not a surprise, but kittens really did wonders for anxiety; playing with a cat was almost like a kind of therapy in itself.

After a few hours of quiet bonding with a bunch of playful kittens, Cole joined me.  We didn’t really talk; I handed over the string I’d been dangling over the cats, and he copied the game I’d been playing with our little friends.  I think the kid knew I needed silence right now, and I guess I’ll admit it; Cole’s presence was nice.  Kind of calming, like the kittens.

~

I stared up at the high ceiling of Amrita’s room, stretched out, sideways, over her bed.  My feet hungover the side and my arms rested underneath my head; I was trying desperately to go for the casual façade, but I didn’t think it was working.  Amrita was pacing a few feet away from me.

“You should tell him.”

“Nah.”

“He will figure it out eventually.  I think he’s already suspicious.”

“Eh, I think I hide it pretty well.  Besides, I don’t think Varric even told him yet.”

I heard Amrita come to a halt, a bit abruptly.

“Varric knows?” Her surprised voice made me lift my head up a little, to turn towards her.  “When did you tell him?”

“Huh?” I asked, furrowing my brows at her.  “What d’ya mean?  He knows about my fainting thing already.  Doesn’t everyone?”

We stared at each other confusedly for a few seconds, before Amrita said, “I think we are talking about two different matters.”

Turns out she was talking about revealing my secret to Solas.  I had been talking about Hawke, of course, and the fact that he’d caught me in a blank-out not too long ago.  I was confused, I didn’t even remember hearing Solas’ name come up during our conversation.  We'd already discussed many different topics; the Orlais thing, the new merchants coming into Skyhold, and even the new drinks they were serving at the tavern.  I must not have noticed when we stopped talking about the Empress of Orlais, and started discussing Solas instead.  I had a lot on my mind.

Amrita sighed, and came over to sit next to me on her bed, prompting me to sit up.  She was going to talk anyways, and I figured it was time to take her seriously.  Least I could do, you know?

“Your attention span shortens every day,” she began; slowly, as if nervous.  “You have noticed, haven’t you?”

I rubbed my eyes, feeling tired already, even though it was still early.  “Yeah, I guess.”

Amrita kept quiet for a moment longer, seeming to be deep in thought.  I didn’t want to have this conversation (story of my life), but I knew it was time.  I figured I was avoiding enough at the moment; I didn’t need to add another person to that list.

“Amrita,” I said, drawing her attention to me rather than at her hands.  “Me and Solas are pretty sure it’s a side-effect of the fainting.  The magic thing, ya know?”  I hesitated, wanting to word everything right.  However, Amrita took my pause as a chance to respond.

“Is it dangerous?” she asked, biting her lip.  “Will it get worse?”

I shrugged, trying not to look too apathetic.  The whole blanking and fainting shit was getting old, and it was seriously wearing on my nerves.  I’d already spent so much time getting pissed about it, it was becoming harder to muster up any emotion about my seemingly deteriorating health.  The real answer to Amrita's questions weren't good, and I didn't really want to go there with her (or anyone).  Because, it's looking like I'm going to get a hell of a lot worse, if the patterns continue as they are.

“I’m sure it’ll work itself out,” I lied.  “I don’t think Solas is too worried.”  Even if he wouldn’t admit to it altogether, the guy didn’t even know _what_ to think; he’d never seen anything like it before.  All we could do was speculate.

“Why won’t you tell him about where you’re from?”

I cursed, internally.  I’d been hoping she’d drop that.  When I glanced at her, Amrita was giving me a hard stare, looking up at me with a set jaw, and I knew immediately that she was prepared to get to the bottom of this.  I tried to curb the rising feelings of defensive anger; I didn’t want to snap at her. 

“I dunno,” I started, hurrying on when she looked ready to snap herself.  “Jeez, gimme a second, would ya?  Not all of us got that eloquent shit down, dear Inquisitor.”  She smacked my arm, with no real heat behind the hit.

“I just don’t…it’s hard to talk about, okay?” I said, with a resigned sigh.  “I wanted to tell you, ‘cuz I trust you.  You’re like… _you_.  I figured out of everybody, you’d get it, ya know?  What with bein’ in the situation you’re in right now.  It’s like you said, what’s one more fucked up story to another?”

Amrita sent me a wry grin.  “Now, I know I did not phrase it like that.”  I tried to grin back.

I kept going, trying to get my point across, though it was a very fumbling attempt.  If I’d been anyone else, I probably would’ve been able to articulate my feelings better and, man, I wish I was one of those guys.  But, I wasn’t an orator.  Never had been.  I could barely string together a sentence on a good day, but I was trying real damn hard this time.  I think Amrita understood, maybe instinctively, what I’d meant.  My fumbling attempts at explaining myself must’ve made sense to her, because she didn’t interrupt me once.

“But, Solas…he’s, like, weird.  You know what I mean?” I said, winding down from my tongue-tied speech, shooting a quick glance at Amrita before I continued.  “He’s got this whole ‘creepy elf’ thing down, and he’s fuckin’ intimidating.  And silent on most days.  Besides, there’s no guaranteein’ that he can find me a way–”

“Fitz,” Amrita interrupted, gently resting her hand on my arm.  I tensed up involuntarily; snapping my mouth shut, wincing at my jerky actions.  I meet her gaze, and my friend didn’t look away as she went on to say her bit.

“Do you want to go home?”

I gaped, a little; just staring at her for a good second or two, before I could snap out of it.  I stood up abruptly, walking a few paces away from her.  “Of course I do.  What kinda question is that?”  I stared ahead, at the stone wall and the railing in front of it, that acted as a barrier between Amrita’s room and the staircase that led to the landing below. 

“I think it’s a valid question,” she asserted, not sounding the least bit discouraged.  “You’ve been avoiding talking about this since you told me about your home.  When I try asking about it, you change the subject.  You brush me off whenever I so much as _mention_ talking to Solas.” 

I whipped around to face her, a scowl set on my face.  “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna go home.”

Amrita looked sad when our eyes met, and she stood slowly to face me.  “It implies it.”

I opened my mouth to fight her, or curse.  I’m not really sure what I was going to say, but Amrita saved me the trouble of saying anything at all.

“I don’t want to upset you.  All I’m saying is that,” she took a breath, enunciating her words clearly and calmly.  “I think you’re scared to go home.  Or, you’re scared of another failure.  And it makes sense!  You’ve had your hopes dashed so many times.”  She took a step closer, becoming even more emboldened when I didn’t back away. 

Amrita came to a stop right in front of me, looking up at me with sincerity written across her face.

“I just think you need to consider your own feelings more.  Instead of pretending you don’t have any,” she said lightly, holding my gaze easily.  “When was the last time you tried to go home?”

I never went into detail about the times I tried to leave this planet, not with Amrita or in this journal. 

All of my attempts were nothing more than flukes; they usually never got any further than theoretical.  Though, the last time wasn’t so theory-based.  I tried to forget about those days, because they kind of sucked.  But, Amrita’s words had resonated with me.  As she confronted me, both of us facing each other in her richly decorated room, I couldn’t stop myself from remembering that last time; the last time I tried finding a way home.  I did end up telling her about it, too, so I might as well write it down here as well.

~

In those latter years of the civil war, I ran into a group of mages.  As was normal back then, minus the ‘kill-on-sight’ point of view that most of the rebels adopted towards the end. 

I was making my way through the woods, heading for a town I’d heard about that lay on the outskirts of Denerim.  Funnily enough, it was a damn mage whom I was actually trying to find; just a single mage.  For once, I wasn’t just looking for another tavern to bartend at.  In the last village I’d been staying at, there were rumors reaching us about mages doing funny things.  Like, more funny than blood magic.  Most of those stories were probably fabrications, but this one rumor I heard was to fucking close to home for me to ignore.

The word going around was about this crazy mage who was messing around with the Veil.  You know, the very nature of the world; that type of stuff.  Sounds familiar, right?

The bar I was working for got a few Denerim people in one night, and they were pretty convinced in the truth behind this story.  I might’ve dismissed it if only one person was talking about it, but this mage story had three different backers.  I basically had to go.

The first round of mages I bumped into were just these two young kids.  They were camped out somewhere in the woods, along the path I was taking, and our first meeting was tense, but civil.  Apparently, they were just leaving Denerim, or something.  They tried to hide the fact that they were mages from me, and I was happy to play along.  They weren’t bad guys; they offered me food. 

Usually I wouldn’t accept, but I’d already gone a day or two without anything significant to eat, so I was feeling pretty desperate.  I joined their camp, just for the food.  They didn’t even ask me for any payment.  I mean, I was still on my guard the whole time, but I was also trying to do the whole ‘not all mages are evil and out to get you’ thing.  I was attempting to be open-minded.  I might’ve also been pretty confident in my fighting skills; like, in the cocky-sense.  Besides, the whole magical resistance thing had me feeling invincible (when it came to mages).  I knew that these guys wouldn’t stand a chance in fight against me.

Don’t get me wrong; these guys didn’t even try to hurt me.  Not only did they feed me, but they tried to help me even further.  They were the ones who warned me about a mage whom they had run into a few days ago.  A crazy blood mage.  They said they lost him a few miles back, and they weren’t sure if he lived or not.  Apparently, the three of them got into it, and it turned into this big fight or something.  These kids weren’t very convincing when they tried to tell me that they fought the mage with their fists.  I remember hoping, for their sake, that they didn’t run into worse people than little old me.

After a few strategically placed questions, I knew all I needed to know.  It was clear to me that their ‘crazy blood mage’ was my guy, and I really thought my journey was turning out well.  Anyways, I shrugged off their warnings.  Not only did I know how to fight, but this guy’s magic wasn’t going to do shit to me.  I was confident that it wasn’t going to turn into a repeat of Marcella and I won’t lie; I was a bit eager to prove myself against a mage.  Even if it was just for my own psychological needs. 

I parted from the mages after I’d finished eating.  I wished them well and all that jazz, and went on my way.  Of course, for all my self-confidence, I ended up running into the mage the very next morning. 

He’d been hiding in a fucking bush of all things, and he jumped me before I even knew what’d happened. 

He threw a spell at me, I can’t remember the type, and then another one when nothing happened.  I just stood there for a moment, composing myself after that jump-scare, while the mage began freaking out about the magic thing.

“What…what is this?” he cried, actually taking a step away from me.

“Fuckin’ rude, for one thing.  I was jus’ walkin’ here, not hurtin’ nobody,” I drawled, raising my arms above my head and lowkey enjoying the way the mage jumped at my movements.  “And then you just try and off me?  Bro, not cool.”

“What are you?” he asked, voice rising.  I sighed, because I knew I had to calm him down before he drew attention to us.  Last thing I wanted was to see a goddamn bear or something.

“Jeez, chill out, man.  I’m human – er, I mean, I’m an elf.” I waved a hand. “Semantics.  Anyways, I’m a good guy, for the most part.  Not gonna hurt ya.  Unlike _some_ people.”

He glared at me suspiciously, but I guess he was too curious about me to just make a run for it.  I tried for a grin, but all that got me was an even harsher glare. 

“It’s a war out here.  I won’t apologize for attacking a could-be enemy.” He finally told me.  I guess that was his way of justifying murder, and even now I get annoyed just remembering those words.  Yeah, sure, let’s just kill anything that moves.  Real fucking moral.  Of course, I didn’t tell him that, and I didn’t know his true motives at the time either.

“Sure, man, I get ya,” I said breezily, waving a hand as if forgiving him.  “I coulda been a Templar or somethin’.”  I managed to limit the sarcastic edge in my voice, but only slightly.

“So, what are you then?” he asked, still defensive.  “Magic doesn’t react like that.  I’ve never seen–”

“You ever meet someone from Orzammar?”

The mage shook his head, suspiciously but thoughtfully.  Perfect. 

“You’re no dwarf,” he said, dryly, to which I couldn’t stop the light laugh from bubbling up within me.

“Hah.  Yeah, nah, just an elf.  Who spent a lot of time in Orzammar.  I’m sure you heard about those dwarves down there?  Their resistance to magic?” I asked, peering down at the guy.  He’d finally stopped with the glaring.  He was even looking interested.  “It’s all in the rock down there, ya know?”

“Fascinating,” he breathed, taking a step closer to me.  I grinned, even though I couldn’t stop my body from stiffening on instinct.

I won’t say he warmed up to me; he was too squirrelly of a fellow, though I did find out that his name was Osian.  I chatted him up, and found out that he was surprisingly eager to talk about magic in general.  He didn’t say a thing about portals or worlds (I figured that would take prodding).  All I really had to do was offer him safe passage through the woods, like a bodyguard or something, and he was eating out of the palm of my hand.  I’m also pretty sure he believed me to be absolutely impressed with his magical studies or whatever. 

Mostly, I thought Osian was lonely and at a loss for what to do in this world, which seemed to be falling down around us.  At the time, I had thought it was fear that influenced his decision to take me up on my offer of protection.  And, for that first day at least, I thought it was going great.  I thought I’d get information out of the guy, though it was obvious to anyone that he was definitely screwed in the head.

But then, the mage started getting all paranoid, and he forced us to walk in circles for hours.  Even when I marked trees, he refused to let us leave the immediate area.

Then, he tried telling me that we were about to get ambushed.  He was convinced that we were being followed, by Templars or bandits or something.  He wasn’t making any sense, and it was driving me up the wall.  I was tempted to give it up and leave, but I wanted to see if he really could open portals, and I still needed more time to talk it out of him.  I’ll say it; I underestimated the sleezeball.

I never got the chance to find anything out.

I never really went into detail about them, but remember that smuggler group I ran with for a bit?  The bastards I had to escape from, back on the Storm Coast?

Apparently, Osian had been working for them the whole time.  The same fucking guys.

That wacked-out mage fucking duped me into walking right into the hands of smugglers and, seriously, what a weird bunch of fucking coincidences this whole mess had been.  I hear about a mage tampering with dimensional-sounding shit, only to find myself trapped by the very same smugglers who had all but enslaved me the last time we met.  And, shit, they were surprised to see me, too.

~

“Aw, fuck, really?” I spat out, around a mouthful of blood.  One of my old smuggler pals had gotten me good; she’d sent a solid punch right to my cheek.  I felt my teeth for any accidents, but they seemed firm enough despite the solid hit.  I glared out at the group, which consisted of only five people.  “Where’s the rest of you fuckers?”

My old friend sent another punch, to my gut this time, and I doubled over.  “Dead, you traitor.  All thanks to you.”

Holding my stomach, I looked up at them.  “Um, I think I’d remember killing a horde of dirty pirates like you guys.”  I jerked away from another punch, but was pushed back to the center of our little circle by one of guys standing behind me.  I fell into the woman who kept hitting me, and she caught hold of me.  She turned me around and wrenched my arms together, holding them behind my back in a tight grip.  “Ugh.”

“You might want to watch your mouth, Fitz.  My boys were all for killing you on the spot.” I looked up at the guy speaking, and scowled when I recognized the man.  His name was Roy, and I guess he’s kind of important.  He was the leader.  And a huge asshole.  “You’re lucky I’m here.  Keeping you alive, once again.”

I wanted to spit right in his smug fucking face, but I knew what would have happened after so I had to settle for mental images.  “I didn’t do nothin’, whoever said I killed your guys was a fuckin’ liar.”

“Oh, you didn’t kill them directly, but you did desert us.  Right before we were hit by a group of Templars.” He glowered at me now, eyes narrowing.  “Suspicious timing, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t–” I was cut off when Roy punched me in the face, the eye this time, and I finished my sentence with a groan rather than actual words.

“Fuck, stop hittin’ me.  I didn’t rat you out.”

“Like we’d believe that,” the woman holding me up hissed in my ear.

Roy just shook his head, and looked at me all disappointed-like.  “Personally, I thought we could still use you.  Give you a chance to repent, do your time.  But, our friend here,” he nodded to Osian. “He has a better use for you.”

I stared at the mage, who was apparently an even better actor than me.  The guy was practically jumping with excitement; he had tremors and everything.  Osian also had that classic crazed look in his eyes, a look I remembered all too well.  It took everything I had not to have a panic attack right then and there.

I gulped; tasting blood as it slid down my throat, mixing with my saliva.  “Oh, yeah?  How quaint.”

Roy frowned at me, before turning to address the rest of the smugglers.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They took me to their camp, but we didn’t stay there.  They packed up, and then we were off again.  Since nobody was telling me anything, it took me days before I realized we were heading for the Storm Coast.

“Seriously?  This shithole?  You gotta be jokin’–” I was cut off by a sharp shove, and I fell forward into the mud, much to the amusement of my small company. 

“Get up,” Roy told me, the only one not laughing.  He gave me a kick, before moving to walk ahead of the rest of us. 

Our trip ended in one of the many caves that lined the coast, and I soon found myself bound up on the ground, right next to piles of rock, which looked like they’d once belonged to the ceiling.  Osian was tasked to guard me, while the others sat around a nice fire at the other end of the small cave.

The mage grinned at me, probably thinking he was intimidating and all that shit.  If he had a knife and a few ideas, I’d be pretty fucking scared. But, as it was, Osian only had a dumb staff.

He faltered when I grinned back at him.

“I met your buddies, ya know.  Those mages you tried to get before me,” I told him, my grin growing when I saw his eyes go wide.  “Said they left your ass for dead.  Pretty cold, ain’t it.  Your own kind, and all that.”

“Be silent,” he hissed back at me, gripping his staff tight.  I raised my eyebrows, leaning my back against the stone wall.

“Or, what?  You gonna set me on fire, motherfucker?  What about your–”

A heavy boot connected with my left side, sending me crashing to the floor.  Hard.  I tried to scuttle away, but I was grabbed by the hair before I could move, and pulled back up again.

“Jesus, make up yer goddamn mind, would ya?  You want me layin’ down or sittin’ up–” I yelped when the fist tied up in my hair yanked viciously.

“You got a loud mouth, you know that?  We’re gonna fucking kill you, and you’re sitting here mouthing off.”

I raised my eyes up to look at Roy, who was sneering down at me.  “So, you sayin’ I should just _quietly_ let you kill me?  _Bor_ ing.”

He crouched down, to better get in my face, and I flinched back.

“You should at least be polite, if you don’t want us to _torture_ you before we off you for good.”

“And what does this ‘offing’ entail, exactly?” I pondered aloud, looking at the ceiling.  “Blood magic?  This gonna be a sacrifice thing?  Oh!  How ‘bout ya rip a portal open to another world?”

Dead silence met my mocking words.  Even the others, still sitting around the fire, were quiet.  I almost crowed, though I suddenly felt really lightheaded.  They’d all but confirmed my theory; they wanted to play around with the Veil, or _something_.  Either way, it was bad.

“No. Fuckin’. Way.” I groaned.  “What’s up with this world and tearing across dimensions?  Chill the fuck out–”

Roy dragged me up by my hair completely this time, slamming my back into the wall.  Dust and bits of rock fell down around us, but he took no notice.  He wasted no time getting in my face.

“How did you know that?”

I laughed, deliriously.  “A wild fuckin’ guess, man.  If it’s not _normal_ blood magic, it’s ‘rip open the world’ magic.”

He sunk a fist into my gut, right over the bruises that were rapidly growing from the earlier abuses done onto my poor body.  Osian broke in before Roy could do further damage.  “He couldn’t have known.” We both looked at the guy.

Osian’s eyes were wide and he looked just as shocked at my words as the rest of them.  “No one knows what I found out.  I didn’t tell anyone.” He turned his head; eyes locking right onto mine.  “He was just...mouthing off.”

I grinned at him, before turning to look at Roy.  “Yeah, you know, me and my mouth.”

Roy scowled for a moment longer, looking down at me with hate in his eyes.  A second later, without warning, he let go of me and I dropped like a sack of rocks onto…more rocks.

Cursing, I struggled to sit up, while Roy headed back to his nice fire.  It was cold and damp where me and Osian sat, but at least it wasn’t near them.

With Roy gone, Osian leaned in closer to me, periodically throwing looks at the smugglers, as if he didn’t want them to catch him talking to me.

“You have heard of such magic before?”  He’d lost the posturing from before, the intimidation tactics.  The crazy remained, though.

“Yeah, before Orzammar,” I rasped, still recovering from the rough treatment I’d just experienced.  It was a wonder I remembered my lame backstory.  “Had an aunt in…Highever.  A mage, er, apostate.  Tried to kill the entire alienage ‘cuz she thought she could get to another world.  Failed.”

The mage lapped up my blatant lie, like a complete idiot.  I think the idea of gaining more knowledge was making him forget to be suspicious, or something.  Or, he was losing control from the power trip given to him by unrestrained blood magic.  Could be either.

“This magic is unprecedented.  No others have ever gotten it to work before…well, I heard about this time in Kirkwall, but that got hushed up quickly.”

I couldn’t help it.  I stared at the mage with terror, not that he noticed; Osian had begun muttering to himself about failed magic or whatever.  “W-wait…Kirkwall?”

He waved a hand, rolling his eyes.  “Complete failure,” he said, leaning in even farther, a sadistic smile distorting his facial features.  “I heard of the mage, the one who tried to open such a portal across worlds,” Osian paused to lower his voice, throwing a look towards the fire. 

“She went mad.  Convinced herself that she’d made it work.  Nothing ever came of it, though.” He shook his head, the great bastard, as if he was lamenting the shortcomings of others.

I waited a few moments before talking.

“You know,” I whispered, calling his eyes to mine.  “You’re gonna have to kill a lot more than just me to open a portal between worlds.  A hell of a lot more.”

Osian huffed out a laugh.  “Do you know how many have already died in the very same spot you now sit in?  A great deal, I’ll have _you_ know.”

I grimaced at the pride in his words, and wondered how long these fuckers had been at this.

“Yeah, but were they all weaklings like me?  Little people?”

I caught him.  He hesitated, darting another look back at the fire, before asking, “What do you mean?”

“My aunt…uh, the mage, she tried this…whatever you’re about to do, with just normal people.  Ya know, people who couldn’t throw a punch, let alone kill a guy.” I shook my head, as if saying that was my imaginary aunt’s greatest mistake.  Osian was hooked on my every word.

“Nah, man.  You gotta get some bigger fish in on this.  People with blood on their hands, ya know?  Tainted people.” I stared up at the mage, with as grim a face as I could manage.  “Like Templars.  Or smugglers.”  
He gaped at me, before scoffing.  “You’re just trying to save yourself.”

I shrugged, even though it hurt and I could barely move my shoulders.  I leaned back, giving Osian one last, forlorn, shake of my head.  When I peered back at him, after a few minutes of silence, I saw that he was looking over at the fire with a thoughtful look on his face.  I grinned.

~

It was messy, getting out of that one.  And, shit, it turned into the oldest story in the book.

Mage turns on his evil cohorts for more power, tries to kill everyone (including me), and nearly succeeds.  I mean, yeah, he killed all my smuggler buddies, which I was glad about, but didn’t manage to kill me, which I was even more glad about.

Osian went for death by burning, which my friends ended up perishing in.  All it did to me was give me time to get out of my bindings, which I had already loosened by the time shit hit the fan.  The fucking bastard forgot to off me before filling the damn cave with his dumb magic, which he knew wouldn’t hurt me.  Or, maybe he thought magic of that magnitude _would_ hurt me, resistance be damned.  It doesn’t matter. He managed to burn off half his face and probably died in that cave, with the rest of those bastards.

No portal opened, and I scattered while the mage screamed in rage, pain, and whatever else was up with his head.  I heard him calling _me_ an abomination as I made my escape, probably because of the magical immunity thing.  I don’t know, it’s not like I stuck around to ask him about it.  The only thing I got out of this mess was a real beef with humanity.  By which, I mean I stopped checking into towns after that.  Actually, this incident was what led me to say 'fuck it' to anything that had to do with people all together.  When I left the Coast, I began my long-term woods-man lifestyle with enthusiasm.  My heart was just really feeling the anti-social, solitary life, I suppose.

But that was a long time ago. The sad thing is, I can’t even say that I had hoped the mage would turn out to be the real deal.  It was way too much faith to put on anything, and I knew better.  I only investigated this story out of some fucked up sense of responsibility; whether it be to my family back home or to my past with this awful magic bullshit.  I don’t think I went about this quest thinking I was going to find a way home, even if that's what I told myself back then.  I don’t know what I expected; I was being reckless, like usual.

Besides, no one with half a brain would’ve believed that any of this would’ve worked out.  Like everyone else, I knew damn well that Ferelden was the absolute worst place to find mages who could figure out inter-dimensional magic.  If I wanted to find adventurous mages, I’d have to go to Tevinter.  And, fuck, there was (and is) no way I’d  _ever_ go to Tevinter; as if I'd expect to get in good with some mages who'd sooner enslave me _and_ torture me than help me pull an 'ET go home' stunt.  I'd have to be a hell of a lot more suicidal for that shit.  Jesus, I could put together all the dumb shit I've ever done, and it still wouldn't be as stupid as me going to Tevinter for help.

I had a point in telling this whole story. 

Amrita may have reminded me of it, but this memory was what made me really wonder about my dedication to going home.  It made me think, deeply, about whether or not I actually _wanted_ to leave Thedas, and that scared the hell out of me. 

I mean, I know now that it all came back to Hawke.  I could tell myself over and over that I distanced myself from him because I knew I was going to leave someday anyways, but that didn’t exactly explain the fact that I still shied away from actually leaving this shithole.

Of course, I didn’t handle this realization well.  In fact, I hopped the railing to Amrita’s staircase and bounded down the stairs before she could stop me.  It wasn’t until much later, when she found me holed up in the dungeons, that I was ready to talk.  She was kind, too.  More than I deserved.  Amrita brought me back up to her room, and that was when I finally told her about Osian and the smugglers. 

I didn’t come right out with it; I didn’t even tell Amrita that I wanted to stay in Thedas.  My head was still too fucked up to admit it; to say it out loud.  The mere thoughts were enough to cause guilt and self-hate to eat away at me. 

It felt like I was abandoning my family; my home.  But, just by the thoughts alone, I was being more truthful than I’d ever been with myself since arriving in Thedas.  I just needed time to really accept it.

In the end, I told Amrita that I wasn’t ready to think about home yet; I told her now wasn’t a good time for the research it would take to get me home anyways.  I said I wanted to stick by her until this Inquisition shit was over, and Amrita let me get away with that statement.  She knew what I was thinking anyways; she was the one to put the thought into my head, and she knew not to push me when I got like this. 

I may not have been ready to admit my sudden revelation, but at least it was a start.

~

“Pfft, oh my _god_!” I crowed, pointing obnoxiously at Sera as she crossed her eyes at me.

“Stuff it, you arse,” she yelled back.  “I look better than _you_.”

I gawped.  “Yeah, in that monkey suit?  I don’t think so, man.”

Sera struggled in Amrita’s hands, as the other elf attempted to finish buttoning up the jacket Sera was currently being fitted for.

“Sera, hush.  Ignore him.” Amrita murmured, concentrated on her task.  Josephine was there, too.  In fact, we were in her office.  Me and Sera had been hanging out on the roof of the tavern when Amrita stopped by.  She called for Sera to come down, saying something about trying on outfits for the upcoming ball that the Inquisition was going to be attending.  The big one, in Orlais.  So, of course, I had to see what the hell they were about to make Sera wear, and it was just as good as I thought it’d be.  

“Inky, I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna shove my foot up his–” 

“There!” Amrita practically cheered.  She turned quickly, one arm around Sera, and showed off their matching outfits to Josephine.  “Both a perfect fit, don’t you think?  The seamstress did an amazing job.”

I choked, because the outfits made them look like those dumb wooden toy soldiers, from that Christmas movie or whatever.  I was ultimately ignored, despite receiving a rude gesture from Sera.

“Yes, I believe so.” Josephine said, with a smile.  “Now, we just need to find Cassandra.  She has yet to try on the uniform made for her.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed again. 

“What about Vivienne?” Amrita asked. 

Josephine waved a hand, moving around the two elves, jotting stuff down on her clipboard periodically.  “I’ve already met with her.  Would you lift your arm for a moment?”

I grew bored of the proceedings; I could only make fun for so long before it got old.  Besides, I knew I was getting too annoying when Josephine couldn’t help but reprimand me, so I decided it was time for me to go.  I could tell Sera was itching to leave as well.  I made sure to grin extra smugly at her as I walked away, earning some more crude gestures thrown in my direction.

I was still snickering as I opened the door to the main hall, and I almost kept walking forward without even looking around first.  I mean, if it weren’t for the fact that I caught sight of two familiar figures right across the hall from me. 

Hawke was leaning against Varric’s established table-turned-desk, while the dwarf sat in his usual spot looking through papers.  Of course, since Hawke has a sixth sense when it comes to me, he turned just in time to catch me staring at him.  I probably looked aghast, which I’m sure only encouraged him to call out to me.

I turned tail like a coward, backing up and shutting the door in front of me as if that would deter Hawke from following.  Turning around, I made a sharp left and fled down the steps that led to the basement of the castle.  I had to push past a few servants, and one angry cook, before I finally made it out into the courtyard.  I headed for my normal hiding spot during those days (the dungeons), sprinting past a couple Chargers, who called out to me, on my way.  I ignored them.

My escape was a success, if a little pathetic.  I just needed more time before I could face Hawke again after that mortifying night where I basically begged him not to hate me.  Those four words that I stupidly let out pretty much decimated that whole spiel I’d given him about us; about how we had to move on and shit.  The embarrassment alone was killing me; I didn’t need Hawke hounding me, forcing me to talk about even more serious shit.  I needed a break from all that, not more of it. 

~

You know who was a cool guy?

Grim.

He didn’t talk, he didn’t expect you to either, and he was only a tiny bit scary looking.  Okay, he was more like a fair bit scary looking, but it was tolerable, alright?

He was also a pretty big guy.  So, if I sat in between him and a wall, he completely hid me from view.  I did exactly this, a few weeks into my self-established Avoidance Olympics. 

I’d been skirting around the tavern for a while, for obvious reasons, but I grew tired of nicking alcohol from the kitchens (the cook had a mean throwing arm, okay?).  So, I was tentatively trying to reintegrate myself into the tavern-scene.  Hence the hiding behind a Grim-shaped barrier.

It worked great until Bull brought his fat ass into the bar.  Predictably, he caught sight of me in zero seconds flat, and the guy probably knew exactly what I was up to from the get-go. 

The qunari sat down in the seat across from me, amicably greeting Grim (who grunted in kind), before turning his attention onto me.

“You have enough room there, kid?” he asked, nodding to my rather squished up position.  I was sitting on the bench with my legs up, pressed against my chest.  I wanted to be able to make a run for it at the drop of a hat, not trip over a bench and fall flat on my face.

“Yeah.”

Bull nodded, expression clearly telling me he wasn’t buying it, before turning back to Grim.  Bull gave the guy one simple look, and the bastard up and leaves.  I watched him go with no small amount of resentment.

“Traitor.” I muttered into my mug.  I avoided looking at Bull, even though I could feel him watching me. 

“What’s up with you, huh?” Bull asked, in a casual tone.  “You’ve been doing a damn good job with the disappearing acts these past few weeks.  Got people asking after you.”

I frowned, throwing him a short look.  “Thanks, I’m goin’ for the gold.”  I ignored the last bit he’d thrown at me, pretending not to care if people were talking about me or not.

“Oh, no one said anything about money,” he joked, playing along.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed when he rested his forearms on the table.  Bull leaned over the table, still as casual as ever.

I snorted, taking a swig of my ale.  “S’not money.  I’ma be the champion, man.”  I was a little drunk already.

Bull chuckled, copying me and taking a long gulp from his own mug.  “Yeah, well, the other Champion just walked in.”

I jerked in my seat, one leg slipping off the bench.  I slopped some of my ale on the table, though I was more focused on looking around the bar than I was with saving my alcohol.  I looked everywhere, but I didn’t see Hawke.  I glared daggers at Bull, when I had to turn around and face the qunari’s booming laughter.

“Shut the fuck up,” I told him.

“Thought you were going to bolt,” he said, ignoring my insulting tone.  He sobered, sending a knowing smirk my way.  “So, you _are_ hiding from Hawke.”

“Nah,” I said back, making sure to sound extra bland.  “What d’ya want?”

“Just wondering where you’ve been keeping yourself.”  He said, staring me down.  “I wasn’t kidding, you’ve got a lot of people worried about you.”

I pursed my lips.  “I’ve been sick.”  I coughed twice for emphasis.

He gave me an unimpressed look.  “Sure, kid.  Sick as in fainting?”

I made a face.  “And puking.  And coughing.  And–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bull muttered, waving my mocking words away with a lazy hand.  “I’m dropping it.”

We sat in not quite comfortable silence for a few minutes before the asshole broke it again.

“So, Grim, huh?” he nudged, smirking down at me as he took a swig of ale.  When all I did was stare back blankly, he rolled his eye and leaned in like he was going to tell me a secret.  He’d just opened his mouth, when Krem decided to join us.

I jumped when the lieutenant’s hand slapped against my back.  I sent him an obligatory scowl as he took Grim’s old seat.

“What’re we talking about?  Looked like gossip.”

“Your mom,” I spat.  He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t bite.  He turned to Bull and waited for the scoop.  Bull smirked, and I thought about leaving.

“Fitz likes Grim.”

Krem crowed, pushing me roughly.  I cursed him, stopping myself mid-drink lest the damn guy made me drop it all over myself instead. 

“You like the big, silent types then?  Dalish will be shocked.”  Krem exclaimed, sounding greatly amused.  I rolled my eyes and elbowed him.

“Nope.  No type.  Not even slightly–”

Bull waved a hand over the table, catch our attention and effectively shutting me up when I saw him nodding his head, knowingly.  I felt dread fill me when I took one look at the smirk on his face.  “Right, you like the not-so silent ones, don’t you?  Preferably sarcastic.  Oh, and with muscles.  And maybe some facial hair?”

I glared up at him, and slammed my mug on the table with vehemence.  It was empty.

“Not.  Interested.”

“Not even if it was the Champion of Kirkwall?”

I froze.  “What the fuck–”

Krem almost dropped his head onto the table from laughing so hard.  “You’re joking!  Fitz, you have a thing for _the_ Hawke?”

I made a face at him.  “I fuckin’ don’t–” I cut myself off, since Krem just went on laughing, and turned back to Bull instead.  “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, man.”

Bull still wore the same smug smirk.  “Oh, I don’t?”  He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

“Listen, kid, you and Varric had a good run of it.  Pretending to be acquaintances and nothing more.  Fooled most too, but not all of us.”  He stared straight at me, like he knew _everything_ , and I tried not to look as though he’d just shot me.  “You aren’t even trying with Hawke.  You and him look at each other with the worst puppy-eyes I’ve ever seen.”

I finally had enough.  I jumped of the bench I’d been perched on, scowl deep-set on my face.  “Fuck off.”

I basically ran out of the tavern, ignoring Krem’s calls and Bull’s laughter.  It pissed me off, being called out like that, but I pushed it down.

And people were wondering why I was avoiding everyone, and the tavern specifically.

~

The big Orlesian party was an absolute shit-show.  I didn’t go, needless to say.  Most people at Skyhold didn’t know our true objective for going to the Empress’s party, but Amrita had told me all about it, mostly because she was just so worried about fucking up.  Something about assassination, I definitely remember that part, but I know it got a lot more complicated than that.  Wasn’t really my problem though; it was completely out of my depth.

I was really glad she didn’t ask me to go, though it was common sense on her part.  And, Josephine probably would’ve had an aneurism if she’d heard I was going to be one of Amrita’s plus threes.  The poor ambassador didn’t deserve that type of horror anyways.  Anyways, between my iffy health and overall awful mannerisms, I bet the thought of inviting me hadn’t even crossed Amrita’s mind. 

So, I was stuck at Skyhold yet again, while Amrita and her crew went out to save shit.  It was a bummer to be without Sera this time around, mostly because she was basically the only person in this damn fortress who I _wasn’t_ avoiding by that point. 

Essentially, during the weeks it took Amrita to travel to Orlais and deal with the Empress or whoever, I spent my time finding new hiding spots and generally avoiding people.  I had a few close-calls with Hawke, and Varric as well.  It was nothing I couldn't out run though.  I even found out that it was easier to hide in the barn than you'd think; I spent a lot of time squeezing myself in between hay-bales and hunkering down to hide (with kittens).

Of course, I couldn’t avoid _everyone_.  Like, say, Cole for instance.  Not that I minded.  Believe it or not, he wasn’t on my Avoid-at-all-Costs List.

“Nah, man, it’s more like – uh,” I faltered, thinking about how to explain myself.  “You know what a golem is, right?” I ended up asking, looking to Cole for confirmation.  When the kid nodded, I went on.

“Okay, so, Iron Man is basically a flying golem, only he’s made out of metal.  Get it?”

“No.  How does he fly?  Does he have wings?”

“Ugh, nah, bro.  It’s…magic?  Oh!  The metal is, like, enchanted to fly.” I explained, feeling proud of myself.  Cole stared at me from where he was sitting next to me.  We were both crouched by the railing on the top floor of the tavern, where we had the best view of the lively bar below us.  It was Cole’s usual haunt and it was always deserted, probably because the kid would make people forget about it or something.  It was the perfect spot.

“A metal bird.”  I could’ve sworn I heard some awe tinging Cole’s voice, like he was trying to imagine a giant metallic bird saving people.

I groaned.  “No, kid.  Iron Man is not – okay, whatever.  He’s a fuckin’ bird.”

I shook my head, and turned my attention to the bar instead.  After a few minutes of just watching, I had an idea.

“Hey, Cole, d’ya still got those–”

“You want to throw them.  I won’t allow that.”

I hesitated, before sending the kid a mock-scowl.  “Heh, not fair.  You’re in my head…”

“That worries you,” Cole said, moving closer to me.  “You’re scared that it means–”

“Lay off, man.  This is supposed to be a fun night, not talk about Fitz’ emotional distress night.” I griped, leaning away almost subconsciously.  Eventually, I just threw myself away from railing, settling down into a slouch by the wall instead.  Cole didn’t move, though he did turn to face me.

“You’re not dying.”

I didn’t answer, not right away.

“What makes you so sure?” I asked, with a sigh.  It was better to be straight-forward with this kid.  Because, apparently, he’d just get in my head anyways.

Cole shuffled closer to me, staring at me the entire time like he could read my soul or something; it was creepy.  I would’ve told him to cut it out, but he was already answering my previous question.

“You’re just…becoming more real.” He said, if a bit uncertainly.  “I think.” 

“You’re louder, and your dreams are, too.  The pain is getting louder by day, and not just the parts caused by your heart,” he whispered, before pausing.  He blinked up at me, and I just returned the stare tiredly.  “But you’re not dying.  You’ll be okay.  Solas is working on it.”

Cole spoke like he was reassuring himself, rather than me.  I let him; I appreciated the conviction he put in his voice. 

“I hear you’re becoming realer, too.” I cringed slightly, not intending to sound so blunt.  Cole just blinked at me again.  “I mean, you’re becoming more human, right?”

“I hope so.  The Inquisitor is helping.”

I smiled at him.  “Well, damn, if ‘Rita’s on the job, she’ll get it done.”

We sat in silence after that, at ease with just sitting there.  I was relaxing, though I’m sure Cole was listening to some person or another the entire time.  When I started dozing, Cole didn’t try to wake me, but he didn’t move away either.  I fell asleep on the top floor of the tavern, comforted by the din below us, and the weirdly calming presence of the not-so-spirit boy sitting beside me.

~

I dreamt of my father. 

We were at the high school; my old school, which was just a few blocks away from our home.  My dad taught night classes a few times a week, and I usually made a habit of bringing him dinner beforehand.  We’d eat in his classroom, and just talk about our days.  As I got older, and my dad took on more hours between his day job at some school in the suburbs and the night classes, we didn’t get to spend all that much time together.  I really enjoyed those nights, sitting in my math classroom, while we shared those dumb stories that really weren’t all that important, except for the fact that it gave us something to (generally) laugh over.

My dream was clearer than the previous one; a detail that seemed to be turning into a worrisome pattern.  It was getting to a point where it all just looked so real, and I guess that also explains why it took me so long to realize I was dreaming this time around.  Or, maybe it was because I was seeing my dad’s face for the first time in over a decade.

We were eating pizza, and I recognized the box as being from our favorite pizza place that was just around the corner from our apartment. 

“How was school?” my dad was asking; holding onto a slice, his free hand moving around in search for a napkin.  I reached over and nudged the complimentary napkins in his direction.

“It was whatever.” I said, looking around for my own slice of pizza.  It wasn’t important; I ended up shrugging when I couldn’t find it, and I slouched in my chair rather than keep looking.  “This fucker tried to steal my skateboard, but…Scott, I think it was Scott.  He got it back for me.”  I gestured to the skateboard lying next to me.  I hadn’t noticed it before.

“Language,” was all my dad said back.  I grinned, because he would always say that, and then he’d curse worse than me a minute later.

“How was your day?” I asked, cheerily, playing with my skateboard; rolling it back and forth with one foot.  “Anyone make fun of your mustache again?”

My dad scowled over at me, though all it got was a laugh out of me.  He had tomato sauce around his mouth.  “For the last time, my mustache looks fine.  At least I can grow facial hair, shithead.”

“Savage, dad.” I said, sarcastically.  I kicked my foot out once again, but all I hit was air.  I looked down, wondering where my board went.

“Hey, what happened to my–”

“Isn’t it time for you to leave?” my dad broke through my thoughts, right as a headache started up.  “I know you have homework you should be doing.  Besides, I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of my class.”

I made a face at him, but stood anyways, completely forgetting about the skateboard.  “Embarrass yourself, old man.”  I started for the door, but something made me pause.

I stared at the ugly posters that covered the math room, wondering why my chest suddenly hurt, and why I felt like crying.  “Hey, dad?”

“Hmm?”

I turned around slightly, holding a hand to my pounding head, just far enough to look at him.  He was blurry, but I pretended not to notice.

“I miss you,”

The figure of my father seemed to smile.  “Are you sure?”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“No, I-I’ve always–” Everything was blurry now, and my head was hurting; just like all the other times when I would end up dreaming.

I didn’t wake up screaming that time, thank god.  Cole still hovered over me, like that first night when I dreamt about Hawke and the others.  But, like me, he wasn’t as distressed as back when these dreams were still a novelty.  He had on the expression of sad resignation rather than panic.  I knew I looked worse.  My head hurt, like it was going to split in two, and my body felt sore and stretched thin.

“Fuck me, yeah?” I rasped, pulling myself out of the slouch I’d fallen asleep in.  “Hope I don’t go there again.”

“You were happy.  For a moment.” Cole murmured, staring forlornly at my hands that were holding onto my chest for dear life.  “But then he said what you were thinking, deep down.”

I didn’t respond.

“You couldn’t help forgetting about him,” Cole started, hands holding onto his knees.  “You wouldn’t have been able to move on if you hadn’t.  It hurt too much to remember.”

“I just–” I shook my head, trying to ignore the awkward way my voice broke.

“You care,” the kid whispered; placing his hands on mine, and slowly lowering them from my chest.  He let go when I kept my hands resting in my lap.  “You’ve always cared, so much.  I can’t hear the words anymore, but I can still feel the hurt there.  You were a good son.” 

A part of me, the vicious self-destructive side, couldn’t help but think that Cole didn’t actually know what he was talking about.  The kid was making more inferences than he was hearing the truth, but I liked hearing him say all those words anyways; like he honestly believed in them.

“It was a dream.  It wasn’t really your father.  He wouldn’t have said that.”

I nodded, faintly.  “I know…”  I cleared my voice, before repeating myself.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is over 10k words! i'm in awe with myself, but anyways! we're getting closer and closer to more confrontations, wowza :O  
> ahh also you are all so sweet, hope you're doing well !


	43. Act II: You Can't Hide From All Your Friends

“So, this is where you hole up?”

I dropped my paintbrush, and the residue still clinging to its bristles made the thing land with a weird ‘splat’ on the stone floor.  Cursing, I hurried to pick it up.

“Shit, man, ya can’t just sneak up on a guy like that,” I huffed, still crouched on the floor, willing my heart to chill out. 

Varric stood only a few feet away from me, his arms crossed, and I could practically feel the judgment rolling off of him in waves.  He didn’t stare at me, not at first.  Instead, he had turned an inspecting eye onto my current project. 

“Alright,” he began, drawing the word out with raised brows.  “I have to ask.  What’s that supposed to be?”

I grinned, sheepishly, and finally stood so I didn’t feel like a kid who just got caught drawing on walls with crayons.  Though, I guess that’s kind of what I  _was_  doing.

“Solas suggested I write down my dreams,” I said, without really thinking.  “He said it would, like, help or somethin’.”

Varric stepped forward, looking pretty intensely at my picture.  “Hate to break it to you, Scholar, but I think Chuckles meant keeping a journal.”

I waved his comment away, “Already got one of those.”

“Is it…a city?”

I followed Varric’s example and stared at my picture, rather than answer him.  I couldn’t help the genuine smile that took over for my guilty one from earlier.  My last dream had been nice; it was just me walking around Manhattan.  The skyscrapers and cars, the loud noises, the people.  It was nice to see it again.

Varric’s hand on my elbow brought me back down, and out of the clouds.  I realized he’d been watching me, probably because I never answered his question. 

“Oh!  Yeah – I mean, I guess so,” I told him, shrugging my shoulders.  I noticed the confusion on Varric’s face, concealed though it was, and I couldn’t blame him.  I hadn’t exactly held back in my painting; no one around here would’ve known what to make of it.  Skyscrapers weren’t really a thing in Thedas, you know?  Neither were cars.

I’d picked one of the dungeon’s cells as my canvas, just for the privacy.  No one really went down there; it wasn’t even a cell that could be used to hold prisoners (the gate was broken).  When I had first thought of doing this, I didn’t really think about how weird my picture would look; I just kind of said ‘great!’, stole some paint and a brush from Solas, and had at it. 

My mentality these days seemed to be heading towards the ‘fuck it’ range.  I guess I just wanted to get the image out there; like cemented on something more than just paper.  I didn’t really care about the questions it could rise if it got back to me, but Varric’s presence had still caught me off guard.  I’d been really focused on it; the city that had once been my home felt important to draw out.

Varric nodded, giving me a small smile.  “It looks…weird.  But, interesting.”

I let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of my head with one hand.  I probably would’ve spouted off some awkward small-talk, if Varric hadn’t kept talking after only a short pause.

“This about those nightmares you’ve been having?”

I grimaced.  Only three people were supposed to know about those.

“Eh, guess so…”  I shuffled away from him, moving to continue painting.  Varric didn’t leave.

“How bad are they?”

I grunted, and focusing on drawing the outline of car.  Varric took another step closer to me.

“Scholar, you know you can’t put this off forever,” he said, with a modicum of severity coloring his words.  I tensed, but still didn’t say anything. 

“You know, I wouldn’t be so worried, if you hadn’t been hiding out for the past few weeks.”  Varric sounded like he was trying to be stern, but he just kind of sounded sad instead.  “How long am I supposed to keep pretending you’re fine?”

I knew he was talking about my health, and the worrying state of it. 

“I’m fine.  Solas is on it,” I muttered, and tried to straighten my shoulders out of the slight hunch they’d adopted.

Varric sighed.  “I still want to talk about it.  I just want to know how you’re doing.”

“Nothin’ to talk about,” I told him, abandoning my art because of the tremors that had started up in my hands.  I backed away from the wall a little, still wary of looking at Varric head-on.  “Hey, you know when ‘Rita’s supposed to be back?  I asked her to get me these–” Varric cut me off, apparently wanting nothing to do with the forced topic change.

“Fitz,” he said, with enough strength that I pretty much had to glance at him.  He didn’t look happy.  “Now, I know Chuckles is great.  Good at healing.  But, have you thought about going to any other healers?  It might help to–”

“No,” I interrupted, the word coming out sharper than intended.  “Has to be Solas.”

Now that I was staring at him, I could see that Varric looked ready to throw his hands in the air.  He was clearly exasperated with me. 

“Yes, and that didn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“It’s…hard to explain.” I sighed.  “I just meant, only Solas knows what he’s doing.”

“And, I guess you won’t tell me what the Void that means, huh?”

I chewed on my lip, heart pounding.  “I, uh…”

Varric waved a hand, effectively shutting me up.  “Don’t bother thinking up a lie.  I know better than to press.”

I flushed, and there was a pain in my chest that was forming from the stress; the stress of steeling myself up to  _tell_  him.  I lost the nerve, immediately after he said that.  I told myself that it would’ve sounded like a lie anyways.

I turned away from the dwarf abruptly, forcing myself to pretend that I was going back to painting.  If Varric looked too closely, which I’m sure he was, he would’ve noticed that my hands were shaking way too bad to actually paint anything.  I still put the façade on anyways.

“Yeah, well,” I began, clearing my throat.  “Just so you know, it’s fine.  Even Cole says so.”

“Does he?” Varric’s voice was light; gentler than I thought it would be.  I nodded my head, and glanced his way.  “You and the kid are hanging out a lot these days.  Blackwall said he’s always finding you two in the stables.”

I furrowed my brow.  I hadn’t realized people were noticing.  I frowned, just because I didn’t want to give the place up as a hide-away. 

“Cole’s cool,” was all I ended up saying.

Varric smiled at that.  “He’s a good kid.”

We existed in awkward silence after that, and I started thinking up excuses to leave.  Varric must’ve known where my mind was going, because he started the conversation back up again.

“You're already well-aware of this, but I just figured you would need reminding," Varric started off nonchalant, before he dropped the bomb. 

"Hawke wants to talk with you.”

I cringed, and took a step back.  I shook my head, and headed towards the broken gate of the jail cell we were in.  “Aw, man.  Can we not do this?”

“Scholar, wait.  Remember what we said about hearing people out before running?”

I stopped, a few steps away from the gate, and looked back at him a bit ruefully.  He was right, because of course Varric was always right.  He was right to sit me down and tell me straight out that I needed to get my shit together, and he was right about all the listening stuff too.  I didn’t do enough of that, and I wanted to be better.  It just got me all anxious; thinking about Hawke.  I wasn’t completely aware of just how deep my feelings for him went back then.  My feelings for Hawke were always of a more subconscious kind.  So, between the burgeoning acceptance of my own feelings towards going home, and the even newer awareness that I didn’t just  _like_   _like_  Hawke; I was at my wits end.

Varric started talking again, once he was certain he had my attention.

“He’s beside himself with worry–”

“And anger,” I piped in, helpfully.  Varric just threw me a look and went on.

“That…thing you do, where you stare blankly at nothing and stop moving altogether?  Yeah, Hawke didn’t like that.”  Varric said it in a way that informed of the dwarf’s own opinions on my little episodes, though he refrained from bringing the topic back to my health.  All for the sake of talking about Hawke, of course.  “And your disappearing acts?  Not amusing.”

I rubbed the back of my head again, trying not to laugh out of nervousness.  Varric wasn’t laughing.  “Disappearing is a strong word.  It’s more like…dedicated acrobatics–”

“My point is,” Varric spoke over me, with a definite stern edge to his voice.  “Every time you, quite literally, run away from Hawke, the more impatient he gets.  Maker, kid, you haven't even really talked to him.”

I could feel the tips of my ears heat up a little, recalling the numerous times I’ve booked it in the opposite direction after catching sight of Hawke around Skyhold.  I’ve hidden under tables, in hay-bales, and I have caused legitimate (messy) diversions just to get away from the man.  I had to suck it up and talk to him, I knew that.  But, you have to know how hard that shit is for me. 

I didn’t want Hawke to yell at me or ask questions.  I wasn’t ready to explain everything, and, back then, I honestly thought I’d never be ready to tell him about me.  I mean, I spent so long avoiding it and creating this whole big barrier between us thanks to my situation.  Hell, I left a fucking  _country_  just to avoid him.  That’s got to say a lot for my mentality, you know?

To top it off, I couldn’t stop the doubts from filling my mind; telling me that I didn’t deserve Hawke, after all I put him through.  And, fuck, I felt like I was dying on most days, just from my erratic bouts of ill health, which seemed to be getting worse with each passing day.  I didn’t want to put all that on Hawke.  We all had enough going on.  He had to be there for the Inquisition, first and foremost, and he didn’t need me holding him back.  Not when this entire world was at stake. 

“Listen, Varric,” I finally said, after allowing a moment of silence fill the small cell after the dwarf’s words.  “I’m gonna talk to him.  Just…not now.  There’s already a lot goin’ on, ya know?  He has to…he should be thinkin’ ‘bout the Inquisition right now.  Priorities, right?”

Varric just stared back at me, solemnly.  He shook his head, clearly not agreeing with me.

“Hey,” he sighed, shrugging his shoulders once; giving me a look that pretty much said ‘I tried to warn you’.  Looking back now, I wish I had seen the complete foreshadowing this conversation possessed.  But, I had no idea.  “All I’m saying here is that you can only run for so long.”  He gave me a significant look, one eyebrow raised and everything.

“Sooner or later, Hawke’s going to corner you.  You know how he can be,” I stared back at Varric, feeling the weight of his words like a curse, even though I was only going to push them to the back of my mind when this was over, “and, you also know how he’s always been, when it comes to you.”

I bit back a flinch, settling for closing my eyes for a second instead.  I shook my head, just to stop Varric’s words from replaying in my mind.

I tried to think of something to say back to him, but nothing ever came to me.

~

I think my drinking problem was common knowledge.  Okay, that was stupid.  Of course it was common knowledge.  There weren’t many tall elves in Skyhold, so I stuck out from that alone, and when you add in my foul mouth and overall weirdness, people were usually quick to take note of it.  They knew me as the local drunk elf.

I knew it was a problem, too.  My thing was that alcohol helped with the headaches, and the near constant pain I was in.  I think Solas knew it as well, even though I always skirted around those types of questions. 

So, in a way, Hawke’s presence helped my reputation.  I stopped frequenting the tavern, with a commitment that I lacked in all other aspects of my life, which is kind of sad when I really think about it.  I still drank, just not in places where I could get easily cornered, as I had learned from my run in with Bull.  Even as I avoided the damn place, I knew there’d come a time when I’d grow sick of drinking in dark, secluded corners and just go back to drinking around people.  I preferred being around others when I got drunk anyways, especially if I was with chill people.  But, with Hawke getting more insistent, I had decided to stick with the pathetic kind of drinking.

After Varric had to go and confront me, I sat up in Cole’s nook with a bottle of my favorite vodka-poser that I’d stolen when Cabot was dealing with some rowdy drunks.  I had to hit the tavern at the perfect time (before Bull or any of the Chargers were in), so that I could ghost up the stairs without anybody stopping me for a chat. 

Cole wasn’t in his usual spot, so I figured he was out helping people or something.  I didn’t mind; I didn’t like it when Cole would just watch me drink.  It felt judge-y, even though I’m sure the kid wasn’t looking down on me or anything.  I also knew I could get talkative when I was drunk, so it was probably better that Cole  _wasn’t_  there when I snuck up to his spot.  I didn’t need to go crying at him about my dumb problems.

I drank the alcohol like medicine, which I guess in a way it was, and tried to will the headache away.  A couple sips was all it took; that shit was strong.  The light feeling that took over, in my bones as well as my head, drowned out my anxieties and the stress of all the shit going on.  I felt like I could finally breathe.

The vodka curbed my thoughts of the present, but, as is usual with this drinking business, it managed to bring up thoughts of the past; thoughts that made me want to cry and smile at the same time. 

I don’t think I’ve written about the first time I ever got truly smashed in this world, like falling down drunk and everything.  I mean, it wasn’t like it was my first touching alcohol, but it was the first time I drank enough to get weird, you know what I mean?

It was at the Hanged Man, of course, with Hawke and all the others.  I think I was eighteen, just turned or something, because it was after Hawke got his mansion all set up, and he was living there and everything.  It was also before his mom passed away, and before shit started really piling up around Kirkwall.

My first time getting drunk isn’t all that interesting, but I suppose it’s a nice memory, if a little embarrassing (though what drunk stories aren’t, right?). 

So, like I just mentioned, it was at the Hanged Man with everybody, and I was shitfaced, trying to start a fight with some shem who towered over me.

~

“Yo, man, you wanna go?” I yelled, throwing out my arms.

The guy I was yelling at sneered down at me, but didn’t get in my face, to my utter disappointment.  “Watch who you’re talking to, knife-ear.  Or I’ll–”

“Oh, shit, man.  You fuckin’ got me,” I sneered right back, ducking out of Hawke’s reach in order to take a step forward.  “Come on, shithead, I’ll see you in the fuckin’ parking lot!”

An arm wrapped itself around my waist before I could get any farther, and yanked me backwards.  I fell in a heap on top of Hawke, with plenty of flailing and cursing.

“Maker, you would be a violent drunk, wouldn’t you?”  he muttered, his breath too close to my ear.  I tried swatting at his arms, but his hold on me remained.  Faintly, I heard Anders asking what a ‘parking lot’ was, but I was too distracted because, at that moment, Fenris stood up and faced my former opponent.

“Remove yourself now, before this turns badly for you.”  I watched the guy’s face go from mocking my current situation, to intimidated in zero seconds flat.  He backed away, and I forgot all about trying to get away from Hawke.  The sheer hilarity of seeing a tall-ass man back away in fear of a short elf was too much to ignore.

I crowed at the guy’s back, though he only threw a quick scowl at me while continuing in his retreat.

“You fuckin’ scared of a knife-ear now, ya bastard?” I called after him.  I ignored Fenris’ annoyed glance, as he reclaimed his seat, which was right next to Hawke’s.  I leaned over, reaching out at arm and waving at him, but not touching.  For some reason, even drunk, I remembered he didn’t like being touched.

“That was so cool!” I gushed, my head lolling to the side as I looked up at him, leaning as close to the elf as I could with Hawke still restricting my movements.  “Fuck yeah!”

Forgetting myself, I held a fist out for a bump, which the other elf only stared at with a raised eyebrow.  Ignoring me, he looked back at Hawke as if to ask ‘what the fuck does this mean?’.  I waved my fist around, trying to get his attention again.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough.”  Hawke stood, bringing me up with him.  Isabela made disappointed noises, but they were only obligatory.  She was too busy chatting someone up to do more than call out a quick name in Hawke’s direction, as said man tried to get me to start walking towards the door.  “Maker’s breath, Fitz, how much did you have?”

“I dunno,” I told him as I tried to see past the spinning images.  “I don’t wanna stand anymore.” I fell to the side, forcing Hawke to redouble his efforts in keeping me up.

“He didn’t have that much.  I’ve been watching,” Anders put in, with a smirk.  “He’s simply a light weight.”

“Not fair,” I whined, waving at him now.  “I ain’t been drunk before.”

“What?” Hawke asked, sounding strangled.  I tried to look up at him, but I got too dizzy half-way through my movements.  Instead I aimed my words somewhere near his shoulder.

“Well, that’ s not, like, super true.  I had vodka this one time with Scott, and we ended up meeting this guy named Tony and then–”  Hawke jolted me, as he began moving me towards the door. 

“Hey!  I wanted to hear the rest of that!” Varric shouted after us, though I only faintly recall hearing it.  I was busy thinking about my first experience with vodka, and I was trying to remember it as exact as I could with a drunken mind. 

I only briefly noticed when Hawke simply replied to Varric’s shout with a wave of his hand, and I imitated him absently.  Before I knew it though, we were through the door and the cool night air greeted us like a slap in the face.  I hadn’t noticed how stuffy it was back in the bar.

“Anyways, there was this big fuckin’ guy – one of the football players, ya know? – and he fuckin’ tries to start shit with us, but Tony had these wicked brass-knuckles, so–”

Hawke had one arm wrapped around my waist, while his other hand made sure that my own arm stayed around his neck.  He didn’t try to walk too quickly, for which I was vaguely grateful of, and he didn’t interrupt my rambling either. 

I didn’t notice we’d entered Hightown until we came upon the front steps of his mansion.  By that point my story was pretty much at its close.

“And then we woke up in Jersey, and Tony had to call his brother to come pick us up, ‘cuz we had school – and I was always skippin’ anyways, and the vice principal told me I’d get suspended if I missed any more days, so I kinda had to go, ya know?  Even though I felt really fuckin’ sick, oh man– ”

“Breathe, Fitz,” Hawke laughed, as he helped me through the door.  He went on to hold me upright while he locked the door behind us, though I barely took note of his actions.  “Before you swallow your tongue.  You know, you’re going to regret telling me all this tomorrow.”

I tried to shake my head, but had to stop.  Dizzy.  “Nah, whatchu gonna do?  Tell my dad?”  I barked out a laugh.  “Good fuckin’ luck.”

Hawke was quiet as he led me upstairs, to one of the many empty rooms meant for guests.  I flopped right onto the bed as soon as I saw it, pressing my face into the clean sheets.

“This is my room,” I announced, my voice muffled.  “From now on.  Only mine.”

Hawke laughed.  “As you wish, ser.  Now may I remove your boots?”  I grunted.

I talked all the way through the time it took for Hawke to get my boots off, and I impeded his venture a bit when I tried to help him, making it take much longer than necessary.  When my boots were off, I pulled my legs up; curling into a ball on the bed, which felt massive since I had become so used to my little cot at Merrill’s.  Before that, all I had was a matt on the floor of the hahren’s, and then before that…  I squeezed my eyes shut, stopping the thought before it could escape.

“This bed is too big, though,” I whined at Hawke, who was now rifling around on the other side of the room.  “I bet I could sleep sideways.”  With that in mind, I attempted to roll over and try it out.

“Ah, careful,” Hawke caught me before I accidentally rolled off the bed, and he nudged me back to the center of the mattress.  “Maybe you should see if that is true when you’re not out of your head, hmm?”

“’M not outta my head,” I muttered, into the pillow that now lay under my face.  “ _You’re_  outta your head.”

“Oh, right, because  _I’m_  the one who just spent the last ten minutes confessing his love to a guest bedroom.”

I scrunched up my face, tilting it to the side slightly so that I could peer up at the man through one eye.  “You did?”

“You idiot,” he said, sounding unmistakably fond as he ruffled my hair.  I closed my eyes again, and nestled into my new bed after mumbling a half-hearted, “cut it out”.

I was out like a light in the next second, didn’t even hear Hawke leave the room.  I think I slept like the dead until sometime in the afternoon of the next day.  But, Hawke was right.  Of course.  I remembered my ramblings, my attempt to start another bar fight, and my overall absurd behavior from the night before.  I definitely regretted it, and I was embarrassed as all hell.  I almost didn’t get out of bed at all; just laid there thinking of ways to sneak out of the mansion without being seen.  Unfortunately, Hawke all but forced me downstairs for lunch before I could think of a successful plan.

Let’s just say I was the butt of our group’s jokes for many weeks to come.

~

I came back to the present when I felt someone hovering over me.

I blinked up at Cole; the kid was crouched next to me, and staring intently.  I was slouched down, nearly completely vertical with the floor, and I didn’t have much motivation to sit up.

“Sup, man?” I lifted the bottle of pseudo-vodka to my lips, and took another quick sip.  I screwed up my face while the drink burned down my throat.

“You don’t want to drink that.”

“Ah, too late,” I said back, blankly, before fixing myself to grin at him.  “Where ya been?  Nick anymore turnips?”

“Knives.” 

I stared at the kid for a second, confused, but decided to ignore his odd confession after only a second or two of contemplation.

“Uh...cool.”

Cole leaned in, reaching out one hand.  For a moment, he just held it out to me, not touching, and I stared at his open palm with even more confusion than before.  I caught on when he gestured for the bottle in my own hands.  I thought about ignoring him again, but I ended up conceding.  I let the kid ease the bottle from my grasp, and place it a safe distance away.  I was getting tired anyways.

“Solas was looking for you.  He asked me to give you this,” Cole took out a small vial from one of his pockets, and held it out for me to take.  I hesitated, but accepted it in the end.

“Why won’t you tell him the draughts don’t work?”

I grimaced, cupping the cool vial in my palms, and avoided Cole’s gaze.  “They work.  Just…not well or, like, all the time.”

“So…they don’t work.”

I scowled at the kid, without any heat.  “Sometimes.” 

Cole stared back at me, a frown on his face, as if he didn’t understand what I was trying to say.  He probably didn’t.  I tried to end the subject by simply thanking him for the draught; hoping he wouldn’t push it.  He got me, which would have been great, if he hadn’t immediately moved on to an even worse topic.

“If you can’t stop thinking about him,” Cole began, nearly making me groan.  “Why won’t you talk to him?”

“You already know why,” I muttered, staring down at my hands once more.

“I know the lies you tell yourself,” Cole said, fucking brutally.  “What I don’t understand is why you won’t talk to him, when that’s what you  _want_.”

I gave Cole a skeptical look, raising my eyebrows.  “Dude, I don’t wanna to talk to Hawke.  I have been working to avoid that for, like, a month now.”

Cole shook his head.  “But, you do.  All you think about is–”

“Listen, kid, there’s a hell of a big difference between wishful thinking and actually making a fucking move, okay?  I can fantasize about…talking with him, but that don’t mean I’ma do it, or that I even  _can_.  Got it?”

The kid was looking at me all frustrated-like, and I almost sighed.

“You can do it.”

I laughed, even though I wasn’t really into it.  I began looking at my vodka, I wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“Let’s not get into technicalities,” I told him, gesturing for him to hand over the bottle.  He ignored my request, in favor of staring me down in a way that had me feeling bad.  “Cole, I can’t…it would just –  _hurt_.  Okay?”  I was basically pleading with him; all the thoughts from my talk with Varric resurfacing with a vengeance.

“Oh,” was all he said.  Cole looked down, at the bottle he’d taken from me, before looking back at me.  “You still think you’re dying.  You think your body is giving up.”

“Yo, my body’s doin’  _somethin’_ , man!” I snapped, unintentionally.  I winced when I realized how aggressive my words came out, and I tried to backtrack; I didn’t want to yell at Cole.  “I’m not in a good place, bro.  Not a good time for…making anything better, especially not relationships.”

Cole stayed quiet, after I’d finished talking.  I looked at him, hoping he understood; even if he had to read my mind to do it.  He finally gave me some kind of response in the form of one, sharp nod of his head.  The next second had him standing up, bringing the bottle of vodka with him.  I let out an involuntary whine.

“You may feel more real now,” he started to say; looking down at me, not meeting my eyes, “but there is still so much I cannot hear, and even more that I don’t understand.  I’ll try.  But, I think what you’re doing is a mistake.”  Cole’s eyes finally snapped up to become level with my own, and I couldn’t have looked away if I’d tried.

“You’re hurting him, and yourself.  You think you’re avoiding more pain, but you can’t know that for sure.”  Cole’s voice was impassioned, and I was taken aback by it.  “Varric told me that I have to grow to be human.  You can’t make it all just go away.  You have to remember, and  _heal_.  But, you won’t let yourself heal, just as you force yourself to forget.”

“You stay in the darkness, twisting your thoughts around in your head and in your guts, never seeing light because all you want is black,” he told me.  “It’s not right.  I thought you were getting better, and so did you.  But each step forward is another step back, a cycle that repeats and never breaks.”

“You have to  _break_  it.”

I stared, suitably gob-smacked, as Cole walked away from me, taking my alcohol with him.  I knew he was right, and maybe everything would’ve went smoother if I’d followed his advice.  But, like I’ve said so many times, I couldn’t convince myself of what so many people were trying to tell me.  Cole believed I was going to be okay, but he couldn’t even fully tap into my head.  He didn’t know everything; only the little bits and pieces he picked up when I was being ‘louder’ than normal, or whatever.  However, his words hit me deep.  Even if I didn’t act on them yet, they would help me later; when I decided to tell Hawke.

Despite that second talking-to, telling me to get my act together and just talk with Hawke, I went on like I had been.  Avoiding everything.

Karma got me good though, so it’s not like I got away with the running thing forever.

~

I liked the library.  It reminded of those libraries from back home, way more so than the makeshift one that the Kirkwall Chantry serves as.  Of course, the library from home didn’t usually have people discussing magic all the time, nor did it have weird men with even weirder mustaches throwing books at people either.  Well, actually, that’s a bit unfair.  New York is a weird place; it’s probably a completely normal occurrence to get book-pelted by some asshole in the library.  I can’t really say, since for one: I haven’t been to a proper, my-kind-of library in over a decade, and two: I never really went to libraries back home. 

I’m getting sidetracked.  All I’m trying to say is that I spent a fair bit of my time in Skyhold’s library, occasionally dodging books that Dorian seemed to like chucking at my head.

“Say, Fitz,” Dorian called, totally disregarding rules of common curtesy; such as being quiet when one is amongst bookshelves.  “Are you just pretending to read that?  Because, there is no shame in admitting when words are too big.”

“I’m lookin’ for the pictures, shitbag,” I threw back, not even pausing in my rapid page-turning.  I finally got to the chapter I was interested in, and started reading for real.

“Well, you’ll never find any in that dusty old thing,” the mage said, loftily, as he made his way over to the alcove I was sitting in.  “What happened to that children’s book I gave you?” 

“Oh, it’s around here somewhere,” I started snickering, suddenly remembering what I’d done with it.  It was a surprise he didn’t know about it yet.  “I’m sure you’ll find it eventually.”

Dorian was staring down at me, attempting to maintain the visage of imperialness, though his eyes were too sharp.  “What did you do.” 

It wasn’t a question.

Still snickering, I answered him, unable to contain myself.  “Just stuck some of the pages around here…but I guess I put ‘em in all the books you don’t read.”

The mage took a deep breath, and shook his head.  “Your immaturity astounds me every time.”  He started walking away, but then his eyes latched onto what exactly I was reading.  I swear, his eyes bulged.

“Interested in…the discourse surrounding the primal nature of the Fade, are we?”

“Borrowin’ it from Solas,” I murmured, following along with my index finger as I read, since Dorian was insistent on not leaving me alone. 

“Do you even understand any of it?”

I was basically forced to look up, just from the sheer astonishment in his voice.  I scowled at him. 

“Considering I do hold a passing IQ on most days, and when you add in the fact that I possess the very real ability for cognitive processing, ya know, like having the capacity to read words off of pages - a skilled I learned at the age of six, by the way-” I sneered at him, wording my sentence very carefully just to see what face he’d come up with next.  He looked so taken aback, I almost cracked.  “So, in answer, I would say - yes.  I do understand what I am reading.  And I find your pretentious line of questioning very insulting.

Dorian recovered immediately, and the only remnants of his prior shock at my sudden eloquence were contained to the suddenly inquisitive look in his eyes as he stared down at me. 

“To be fair, you always act as though you’re torn between behaving like a barbarian and a small child.  I simply did not think such…topics would attract your attentions.  If you were interested in magic, you could have just asked me.  Or simply ask Solas of the Fade, if that is where your curiosities truly lie.”

“Pass,” I said, making sure to sound especially insolent, while simultaneously slouching back in my seat; effectively ending the conversation.

I heard Dorian huff, walk away, and mutter something about ‘rude elves who don’t make any sense’.  I smirked to myself, and focused on reading once more.

Later on, when it started getting dark and there were really only a few of us left in the library, I finally decided I’d done enough reading for one day.  I wandered down to Solas’ rotunda, knowing the man was still there (all I had to do was lean over the railing overlooking his little room).

“Yo, what’s up?” I said, waving at the elf as I jumped down the last steps and landed in the middle of the entryway that opened to Solas’ room.  He gave me a brief smile in return, before turning back to the mural he was currently painting.

“How fares your reading ventures?” he asked, focusing on the wall in front of him as he made small, delicate strokes with his paintbrush.  “Are you enjoying the books I found for you?”

I shrugged.  “Sounds like a boring old white guy wrote it, but whatevs.”  I threw myself into Solas’ comfy chair, and turned it around to watch him paint, only earning a slightly disapproving look from the man.  I changed the topic before he could lecture me.  “Hey, I started recording my dreams.  Like you suggested.”

Solas put down his brush, and turned to face me completely.  I hadn’t quite expected to receive his full attention, hence my bringing up the touchy subject.  I had thought it’d be easier to discuss without having someone bearing down on me, but it seemed like Solas wanted me to know he was paying attention or whatever.

“And?  Is it helping?”

I shrugged, again, and made an iffy noise.  “Sure.”

His silent stare, steadily set on me, prompted me to keep talking.

“It’s weird, I guess.  I’m not so used to remembering stuff in, like, great detail.”

“Your dreams consist of mostly memories from your past then?”

“Yeah…” I murmured, recalling some of them.  I shook myself out of it before I got too stuck.  “Not the full ones, but when I wake up, it’s like I remember the day clear as…day.”  I cringed at my wording, but Solas didn’t make fun of me for it.

“Interesting,” he pondered, picking up his brush once more and, to my relief, turning his back on me in favor of his painting.  “Keep writing those recollections down.  You might be glad to remember them so clearly, when you are older.”

I nodded, though the elf couldn’t see it.  I didn’t need his prompting; I had gotten into the habit of keeping a journal way before I started dreaming.  My memory problems were extensive, and absolutely exasperating, so whenever I would recall something, even if it was mundane or stupid-sounding, I would write it down.  I hated forgetting stuff. 

My dreams as of late had branched out from just my days in Thedas.  I've had multiple ones about home, like my Manhattan dream, but the ones I really liked were the ones about Kirkwall.  That may sound surprising, but I liked remembering stuff from those days; even though they kind of made my heart hurt.  I usually felt weird, or maybe you could call it soft, when I thought of them.

One such dream, if you can stand another mention of memories, took place during one of the many delinquent activities I used to participate in.  I started off in the docks, and the length of my dream only lasted maybe a couple of minutes before my headache woke me up, but I remembered it.  When I was awake, I immediately recalled the circumstances surrounding my dream, and what had happened afterwards, even though my dream cut off way before the important bits.

It’s about Hawke, mostly, but that’s not exactly new and surprising. 

~

“Ay!” I called, drawing the word out and pitching it so that even the farthest away elves could hear me.  I watched them scatter, just for a moment, before turning around to scat myself.  Or well, I tried to.  I was kind of held up by the fact that one of the city guards was stood right behind me, and had held out a hand to stop me before I could even try to duck around her.

“Stop right there!” she yelled, even though I was like five feet away and had already halted.  I held up my hands in surrender.

“I didn’t do nothin’, officer.”

She scrunched up her face in slight confusion before deciding to ignore my words, and the cheeky tone I had said them in, preferring to grill me instead.

“You were involved with those elves.  You just signaled–"

“Huh?” I said, tilting my head and furrowing my brows.  “I was just sayin’ hey to my buddy, Rick.”  I pointed over to one of the groups of dockworkers at random.  “I mean, yeah, guy’s an elf, but I wouldn’t say we’re _involved_ , if you get me.”

“What?  No, those street urchins were defacing the port tower, and you called for them to run.  I know what I saw.”  Some of the guard’s partners approached, and pretty soon I was feeling cornered, and I didn’t like it. 

Starting to feel nervous, I shifted feet, looking for a way out.  The guards read me, almost like it was their job or something, and boxed me in so that there was no escaping.  I held my hands up once more.

“Yo, I’m hella innocent.  I don’t know no street urchins.  I’ma responsible–”

I was cut off by the entrance of a new person into our fun little conversation.

“Oh, Fitzy, what mess have you gotten yourself into this time?”

The original guard who’d cornered me gasped, turning to face Hawke, with awe written across her face.  “Messere Hawke!”

Hawke nodded his head at her, grandly, and I scowled when he smirked at the blush he inspired. 

“I’m sorry, what has Fitz done now?”

The guard stumbled over her words, and her partners started backing away from us when Hawke sauntered in between our weird group.  He came to a stop next to me, and threw an arm around my shoulders. 

“This elf was – he was in cohorts with a group of…delinquents who were–”

“Where’s your proof, lady?” I snapped at her, unable to take her stuttering.  It was going to get to Hawke’s head.  “You got witnesses?  Explicit content detailing my supposed transgressions?  What about–”

Hawke brought his hand up to tousle my hair, very roughly might I add, though that was just because his main goal was to shut me up.  “Please, excuse him.  He gets cranky when he’s accused of criminal behavior.  However, he does make a fair point.  Have you proof of his wrong-doings?”

One look at his suddenly serious expression, and the unimpressed rise of a single eyebrow, and the guard was waving us off.  Hawke and I watched her scurry away, with an oddly sincere-sounding apology, leading her silent band of colleagues to hurry after her.

I shoved Hawke’s arm off of me.  “Why you gotta embarrass me like that?”

“Oh, like you don’t do a good job of that on your own,” he scoffed.  He turned to face me head on, crossing his arms over his chest and directing his unimpressed look at _me_ now.  I scowled back.

“What?”

“Must you get yourself involved in such…juvenile pursuits?  Was it graffiti this time?”  Hawke made a show of looking around, searching for any new additions to the docks.  “Or was it–”

“Piss off,” I threw back at him, beginning to walk away.  He followed.  “It’s none of your business.”

“When I’m the one who just got you out of a night in the holding cells, I believe it _is_ my business.”

I waved a hand.  “I woulda gotten away eventually.  They had nothin’ on me.” I said, loftily.

Hawke sighed, sounding distinctly exasperated.  “I am going to receive yet another lecture from Aveline, on behalf of your growing list of felonies.”

“ _Unproven_ felonies,” I pointed out, looking up at him with a smug grin.  “And therefore non-void.”

“Not in the eyes of our dear Guard Captain, Fitz.  And, let me tell you, I will not be saving you from her wrath as well.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Whatevs.”

Hawke just sighed again.

~

“Hey, Scholar, heard about your new fresco in the docks.  Very tasteful,” Varric greeted, as I entered Hawke’s place that evening.  A good portion of the group were sitting in Hawke’s living room, playing cards at a big table they’d transformed into a gambling pit for the moment.  Aveline was nowhere in sight, so I didn’t even try to hide the grin as I greeted Varric back.

“Thanks, but I didn’t do it this time.”

“So he claims,” Hawke put in, not taking his eyes away from his cards.  I assumed he was losing awfully to the others.  Isabela waved me over, and I took a seat next to her.  She threw an arm around me immediately, pressing up against me like an overgrown cat.

“Fitz, my you’ve been busy,” she exclaimed.  “You didn’t say you were so adept with art.”

“I didn’t do it,” I repeated, a little exasperated because I really hadn’t.  I mean, yeah, the idea was mine, and I was involved, but I didn’t draw anything this time. 

I’d hurt my wrist in an undisclosed fight in Hightown a few nights before.  I’d wrapped it as best as I could, and was pretty sure it wasn’t broken or anything, so I figured I’d be good.  In the meantime, I was trying to keep my injury hidden; just to avoid the drama I knew Hawke would kick up if he knew.  And I didn’t need Varric, or one of the others, trying to get to the bottom of my story or anything either.

"Right, kitten, you had _nothing_ to do with it,” Isabela corroborated with a wink, before letting go of me in order to direct her attention back to cheating at cards.  I sighed, but didn’t try to convince anyone anymore. 

I grew bored watching their game after a few minutes, even if Anders was a hilarious loser, and awful at cheating.  I left the table in favor of sitting in front of the fireplace.  The book I’d been reading was still in the last place I left it, tucked under the nearest armchair to the fire, so I fished that out and started reading.  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I laid the book out in front of me, only using my good hand when I needed to flip pages.  I kept my aching wrist tucked away on my lap.

I tuned out the rambunctious card game going on behind me, letting myself become truly immersed in my book.  I remember it being a decently interesting one, too; about the recent advancements in the sciences throughout Thedas.  I suspected some accounts were faulty (ie biased), but it was the closest book I’d ever found on pure science since coming here.  And by that I just mean, science wasn’t a side-note in the end of one chapter; this tome was all about scientific advancement, and not the magical kind.  I didn’t even skim it like I usually did with books, and I probably would’ve taken notes, too, if it weren’t for the fact that reading was hard enough with only one hand.

I didn’t notice when dinner was served, and I ignored the calls for my attention with a raised fist, holding one finger up in the universal sign for ‘one moment’.  When one moment turned into twenty moments, Isabela threatened to dunk me in one of the fountains scattered around Hightown later and I forced myself to join them.  Absentmindedly, I brought my book with me, still deeply involved in the chapter I was on.

“What are you studying now, Scholar?” Varric asked, as I took my place across the table from him.  They’d cleared away the cards for now, and the table had been reverted back to its original function of dining.

“Oh…um, nothin’,” I said, so distracted that I defaulted to a totally awful lie.  I picked up my fork, to shovel food into my mouth like the rest of them.  I mainly just wanted to return to my spot by the fire; like, you know when you’re just so tuned into a book, it’s hard to come back down to earth?  I was feeling like that. 

My book rested on my lap, since I had realized once I’d sat down that I couldn’t read and eat at the same time.  It was also vulnerable to theft, which is what happened next.  I should’ve known better than to sit next to Isabela.

“Hmm…oh, ew.  I thought it might be one of your romance novels, Varric, but it is just a book on herbology.”  Isabela made a face, holding the book out of my reach.  “How dull.”

I reached for the book without thinking, using my injured wrist by accident.  I held in the flinch successfully, but my sleeve was what really got me caught.  It had fallen down to my elbow when I stretched my arm out to steal my book back, revealing the bandages I’d wrapped tightly, and thickly, around my wrist.  And, of course, the others noticed.  I cursed the fire for making me take my coat off.  At least the sleeves on my good old coat weren’t flimsy enough to fall down my arms if I so much as stretched them slightly upwards.

“What did you do to your wrist?” Hawke all but demanded, placing his cutlery down in order to lean over the table for a better look.  At that same moment, I snatched the book back from Bela, and retreated my arm back to its place under the table.

“I hurt it.” 

Hawke gave me a look that said, ‘no shit?’.

Anders leaned in too, giving me a stern look.  “Is that broken?  Let me see it.”

“Piss off,” I said, picking my fork back up with my good hand.  Anders scowled at me and opened his mouth to retort. 

“Not fighting again, are we?” Varric said, idly, as if this whole topic was of no concern.

I shoveled food into my mouth, and shook my head.  Varric’s mouth dipped down, catching my hesitation most likely.  I swallowed my food in a rush, so I could defend myself.

“I didn’t fight nobody,” I said, before taking another bite of food.  My statement was even kind of true; it was more like me getting the shit kicked out of me.

Anders, who was sitting next to Varric and therefore sort of diagonal from me, reached out an arm and gave me an expectant look.  “Let me see the damn wrist, Fitz.  It looked swollen.”

“Wasn’t,” I said around a mouthful of food.  “Just used lots of bandages.”

If this were a sitcom, the table would’ve heaved a collective sigh.  As it was, Anders just became more insistent on seeing my arm. 

“Ugh, goddamn, why d’ya guys gotta be so annoying?” I said, with a groan.  I shoved my plate away, and gave the table a sullen look; mostly at Anders, who looked about ready to jump me.  “I got it banged up a few nights ago.  In an accident.  Isabela had a black eye just last week!”

“Don’t drag my name into this, sweets.  It won’t help you.”

“You literally couldn’t open your eye and nobody said shit–”

“Fitz.”  Hawke’s tone booked no room for argument, partially because he sounded disappointed and lecture-y.  I finally relinquished my arm to Anders, but I scowled at the mage as I did so.  I scowled harder once he took off my bandages.

“Oh, an accident, you say?” Anders said, purposely loud and sarcastic.  “Did this accident have hands, because I believe that’s a handprint right there.”

“Eat me, you p–”

Isabela cut me off with a huff of laughter, and an exaggerated roll of her eyes.  “I don’t believe it’s any of our business what Fitz does in his free time.”  She leaned against me once more, giving me a suggestive look.  “So long as he enjoys it.  Did you enjoy it?”

I furrowed my brow, “What d’ya mean by–”

“Please, Bela,” Hawke said, in a strangled voice.  “He doesn’t even know what you meant by that.”

Defensively, I responded, “I knew what she meant, fuck off.”

He gave me a deadpan look, while the rest of the table snickered.  I flushed to my ears, but upheld my perpetual scowl.

“It’s sprained.  Would you permit me to heal it?” Anders asked, pulling my attention away from my staring contest with Hawke.

“No!” I said, a bit too loudly.  In a much more normal-sounding voice, I went on, “No, thanks.  That’s what the bandages are for.  Duh.”

Anders stared for a second longer, before giving up and re-wrapping my wrist, in a much more professional manner than my slightly haphazard job of it.

When he let go of my arm, I shot up from the table. 

“You’re all a buncha nosy bastards, ya know that?” I told them as I went back to my fire.  They left me alone after that, thankfully, but I also knew it was far from over.  I fully expected Hawke to corner me later.

Anders went home first, and Isabela skipped out a little while later, probably in search of a bigger party, which left just me, Hawke, and Varric lounging around the fire in the sitting room.  I was in the same spot from earlier, reading my book once more.  Varric snagged me by taking advantage of my distracted state.

“Say, Scholar, did you hurt your wrist in Darktown or Lowtown?”

“Hightown,” I replied without thinking, until my brain caught up and I visibly cringed at my own stupidity.  I looked back at the two men, sitting across from me on the couch.  Both of them were frowning at me.

“Hightown?  At night?” Varric pressed, looking too intense for my liking.

“It don’t matter,” I grumbled, pretending to read.  I only got to flip a single page before Hawke snapped at me.

“Fitz, forget the book, for one moment.”

Guiltily, I lowered the book, just a bit, and resolved myself to endure the interrogation.  I tried not to look at them with blatant dread, but I don’t think it worked.

“Did someone–” Hawke seemed to stumble over his words, and I stiffened just because of the anger I heard in his tone.  “Was it a thug?”

I frowned at him.  I couldn’t maintain the eye contact for long, so pretty soon I was swinging my gaze away to look at the fire instead.  “Nah, just some guy.”

“Was it a noble, kid?” Varric asked, and my twitch was enough of an answer for the both of them.

Hawke stood up abruptly.  “Maker help me, I will wring–”

“I’m fine,” I stressed, scooting away from the two of them.  “He just wanted to pick on an elf.”

I watched as Hawke’s palms folded into fists, but then Varric’s voiced distracted the both of us.

“Hawke, sit down,” the dwarf ordered.  Hawke glared down at his friend, but the look in Varric’s eyes was enough to send the man dropping back into his seat.  I relaxed, marginally, and reached out a hand to pull my book closer to me, just for something to do.

Varric looked at me, calmly, and his voice was gentle when he spoke next, “Do you know who it was, Scholar?”

Relaxing further at the nickname, I shrugged and ran my fingers down the uneven edges of the pages in my book.  “Didn’t get a good look at his face.  Had a mustache, I think.  Tall guy, bigger than me.”

Varric nodded, like that was all he needed to hear.  “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright?”

I shrugged again, before glancing up to shoot a look at Hawke.  The man was staring at his lap, and at the fists that lay on his knees.  He raised his head, I guess feeling my gaze, and the hard look on his face went away when he turned his attention to me.  I was tracing letters onto the cover of my book when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Did he…did he hurt you anywhere else?”

I gulped, pausing in my tracing, and looked to the side.  “Nah…”

I jumped up, and away, when Hawke stood up once again, even more abruptly than before.  “Varric, find him.  Now.”

“ _Calm_ _down_ , Hawke,” Varric hissed, standing up as well and tugging hard on the back of Hawke’s shirt.  He whispered something I couldn’t catch, before turning to address me.  He approached me like I was a scared animal, which, I guess, the analogy wasn’t too far off the bat.

“Come on, Scholar, it’s okay,” he said, so calmly, and held out a hand to me.  “I’ll take your book.  You go sit on the couch, alright?”  I hesitated, but handed over my book, which I had been gripping tightly.

Varric led me over to the couch, and I sat down gingerly.  For a moment, the two of us just watched Hawke pace back and forth in front of the fire.

“Hawke,” Varric said, clearing his voice at the same time.  Hawke paused, and looked at us. Like before, his gaze softened when our eyes met.  Hawke took a few steps towards us, kneeling down right in front of me when he was less than a foot away.  I gaped a little, as he looked up at me with serious eyes.

“Will you tell me what happened, just as it happened?” he asked, eyes on my face, while mine watched his fists uncurl and relax.  “If he hurt you, I want to know.”

I swallowed thickly, still so unused to that kind of attention, and the whole seriousness thing.  I ducked my head, ruffling the back of my hair with my good hand.

“Fitz,” I looked up again, caught by the emotion in his voice.  “Please.”

I told him what happened.

~

The scuffle I’d been in wasn’t as bad that all those dramatics imply.  Some noble decided he wanted to boss around the first elf he saw in Hightown, and I just happened to be walking by at the same time.  So, me, being me, told him (not so kindly) to ‘fuck off’, and that’s when he figured he’d better kick some respect in me, or something like that.  He had a friend with him, so it took me longer to get lost.  

I’m decently sure that Varric found out who those guys were, even though I didn’t even really notice the second man, and he probably decimated them, like reputation-wise or something.  I don’t really know, but Hawke didn’t get sent to prison for murder, so it was all good.

It was also one of those times where I didn’t regret telling the truth; didn’t even get embarrassed about letting people in, either. 

I thought about this time after Hawke confronted me in Skyhold, following weeks upon weeks of increasingly pathetic diversionary tactics on my part.  The words he said to me, and the emotion behind them, affected me in ways I thought myself resistant to, though I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that I wasn’t as tough as I liked to think. 

Hawke cared about me and, more times than not, I’m always just pushing him away.  I hate thinking about it, because it’s really awful to look back and see all the screwed up things I did, because of all my screwed up intentions.  I mean, I know now that I’m going to tell him, but sometimes I think, deep down, that it would’ve been better to have told him, everything, way sooner.  If I had only gotten over all my hang-ups.

But, you know what, I’ve always known that I couldn’t truly run forever.  I could fucking try, procrastinate with all my might and just forget everything when possible, but even then, it has all got to end at some point.

This time, when Hawke got fed up with my affinity for stalling the inevitable, it resulted in a pretty big blow up.  Like, not Chantry-big, but the shouting-fighting kind. 

Words were said, actions done, and it was all pretty fucked up, but more importantly, it forced me to come to some very real realizations.  Not just ones about my feelings either.  The damn confrontation actually deal with my fucking life, and what the hell I was doing with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3  
> title is a line from 'Your Ever Changing Moods' by Summer At Shatter Creek  
> also! more songs if anyones interested in some FitzHawke feels:  
> 'Little Wanderer' by Death Cab for Cutie (thank u Reluak for recommendation, this song really makes me wanna write an au T_T) and 'Lovesong' by Adele (thank u RobinMarlesuth)


	44. Act II: Talking Doesn't Always Help, Except For When It Does

I want to write about an old memory of mine, like a really old one.  Back when I was still in Kirkwall, and before I ever even got the notion of leaving put into my head.

I haven’t gotten to the part about my fight with Hawke yet, but, for some reason, this was the first thing I thought about after the fight.  It came to me as soon as I got done bawling my eyes out after the big blow out we’d had; when Hawke had finally gotten sick of me avoiding him all the goddamn time while we were both in Skyhold.  I can’t really say why this memory popped up in my head, except that maybe some of the words that Hawke said to me, during our fight, felt familiar to that one, random time, way back when we were both in Kirkwall.  Or, maybe I’m just being nostalgic.  The memory could've also been spurred on from a dream or something, and that’s why I even fucking remembered it.  It would make sense, seeing as, on a normal day, I had trouble even paying attention to the present, let alone remembering the past.  Dreaming always helped me remember more.

Anyways, this memory starts with the first time I fought a mage (not including Dead-Eyes).  It happened while I was on a job for some mercs, doing something I can’t really remember the point of.  It’s not important, it’s the parts where Hawke comes in that actually mean anything.

It was some time after Marcella and Dead-Eyes got a hold of me, and died because of it, so I wasn’t flat-out avoiding the sewers like I’d been when I was hiding from those bastards.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I was totally psyched to be going back down there.  I didn’t have much choice; the money I was being promised was way too good to pass up.  And I thought I was going in a group. 

I mean, we started off in a group; there were five of us total.  Four of them being these big strong mercenaries, and then there was scrawny me.  Needless to say, I wasn’t being brought along for my exemplary fighting skills or my intimidating looks.  I was just meant to get in, side step the fighting, grab the thing, and go.  Back then, I just figured our bosses wanted to avoid an all-out fight to the death; just a quick fight and steal kind of job. 

It started off fine.  The mercs were professional, took the piss out of me for the duration of our travels across Kirkwall’s sewers, and then all four of them died at once from a nice explosion via blood mage.  You should have seen the look on the mage’s face when he realized I was still alive, in the midst of these burning corpses and blown up shit.  I mean, I wasn’t totally unscathed; the explosion had blown up these wooden boxes so I’d taken a decent hit just from the debris alone.  Splinters, scrapes, bruises; nothing too bad though.

I stood up, trying not to grin at the mage’s shocked face. 

“How did y – that’s impossible!”

“Nah, man, you just didn’t try hard enough,” I said with a shrug.  I had the dagger that Hawke had given me out and ready, and I didn’t hesitate to jump the mage. 

He wasn’t totally defenseless, even though he wasted precious time trying to fling more spells at me.  Once it sunk in that he couldn’t hurt me by magic, he just started swinging his staff around like a crazy guy.  Hit me a good few times as well, but I was actually pretty alright at the fighting stuff by that point.  Hawke’s training was beginning to pay off.

Still, I grappled with this guy for a bit, before my dagger finally found its way into the mage’s uncovered neck.  I grimaced, breathing heavy, and jumped back in an attempt to avoid the worst of the blood.  I tried not to look at the corpse, even as I retrieved my dagger, and immediately turned my attention to the whole reason I was even down here.

It was starting to hit me that I was alone in the sewers, what with my buddies all dead and stuff, and I could feel a panic coming on.  So, I tried to focus and bury my own anxieties and the flashbacks that trying to sneak up on me.  I knew I was going to get them sooner or later, but I just preferred to be somewhere nicer when that actually happened. 

The mercs were looking for a chest, which was supposed to be full of riches or something.  They hadn’t warned my group about any mages guarding said chest, so I wasn’t completely certain we were meant to survive this trip.  I wondered what the hell my buddies had done to deserve this kind of betrayal, and I was slightly pissed because the merc bosses had sent me along like a necessary casualty.  I found the chest, and all it had was scraps of cloth and broken bits of someone’s old belongings.  I slammed the lid down, biting back curses.  I should’ve known that kind of money was too good to be true; they’d never offer that much to a simple thief.

I jumped a second later when I heard the echoes of running footsteps, coming right for my location.  I looked around wildly for a hiding place, and ended up squeezing myself behind a nearby shaft that was sort of in the shadows.  I was banking on the shadow part to conceal me.

My efforts were deemed useless when I caught sight of who exactly was running towards me.

Hawke practically came pelting into the room, nearly tripping over one of the still flaming corpses.  He was closely followed by a gang of three; Varric, Fenris, and Anders.  I almost wanted to groan. 

Knowing Fenris, or Varric, would catch sight of me in no seconds flat, I eased myself out of my hiding spot with a called out greeting.

“Fitz!” Hawke’s voice was full of relief, and I was slightly confused by the pure emotion in his tone.

“Yo?  Whatchu guys doin’ down here?” I asked, looking around at them.

“We heard you’d been sent into a trap, Scholar.  A deadly one.”

“Ah, right.” I nodded, looking around at the pure carnage around us.  “That.”

Fenris stepped over one of the bodies, coming to stand next to the body of the mage I’d killed.  I took another step to the side, in the opposite direction, when I realized how close I was standing to the corpse.

“This was a mage,” the man said, looking up at me sharply.  “You killed him?”

Rubbing the back of my head, I answered, “Well, duh.  He was, like, trying to kill me first.”

I glanced at Fenris, only to find him staring me down.  When I looked around at the others, I found them staring at me, too.  With varying levels of surprise.

“If this is his work,” Varric gestured around at the dead bodies, the fire, and the debris.  “He must’ve been pretty powerful, Scholar.  How the hell did you get to him?”

I made a face, and shrugged.  “He had his neck wide open.  So I stabbed it.”  I demonstrated a short jabbing motion with my still bloody dagger.

“Not the answer we were looking for.” Hawke finally put in, shaking his head.

I had to look at Anders next, when the man sighed and headed towards me.

“Let me take a look at you.  You look…”

“Like shit.”

“Thanks, Varric.”  I scowled, tensing only a little when Anders got close.

The man sighed again.  “Don’t worry, I remember.  No magic whatsoever.”

I let him take stock of my injuries, which didn’t take long.  “It looks worse than it actually is.  You’ll need to let me take those splinters out though, and we’ll need a fair bit of bandages for those scrapes.”

The man adopted a considering look, which held an edge of confusion to it.  “I must say, it’s odd.  There’s not a burn on you.”

I bobbed my head, giving him my best ‘shucks, if I know’ face. 

Hawke, who had wandered over to stand beside Anders, looked down at me with raised brows.

“Let me guess.  You got lucky.”

“Well…” My gaze ran past the bodies of my merc pals.  “I was sorta surrounded by four big guys.  They got the firey-bits I guess.”

“Right.  Well, let’s get out of here.  This place gives me the creeps.”

I watched as Hawke started to throw out an arm, presumably to place around my shoulders, only to pull it back immediately.  He turned, a bit awkwardly, and headed for the exit.  I looked to Anders, giving him a silent ‘what the fuck’, but he only snorted and shook his head.  He followed Hawke out, as did Fenris.

“Come on, Scholar, I’m sure you don’t want to hang around this place any longer.” Varric came to a stop next to me, ushering me to go ahead of him.  I nodded, and started walking after a moment’s hesitation.

“What the shit’s up with Hawke?” I asked in a whisper, covering my mouth slightly for added protection.  Varric chuckled, but responded in kind.

“Don’t you worry, he’ll get over it.  Sooner or later.”  I wanted to ask what the hell that meant, but resolved to wait for later, when I don’t have to maintain a crazy low voice, which I wasn’t necessarily good at to begin with.

We didn’t talk again until we were out of the sewers, and back in the beautiful neighborhood known as Darktown.  I was immediately shuffled off to Anders’ clinic, and both Hawke and Varric tagged along as well.  I assumed that Fenris headed home, but who knows.

Hawke and Varric chatted while Anders dealt with me, and I probably annoyed the mage with my cursing as he plucked out these wicked looking splinters from my back.  Okay, so, I _definitely_ annoyed him.

“Oh for the love of – Fitz, keep still, or I’ll–”

“You’ll what?  Rip splinters from my back, as revenge?” I hissed, through gritted teeth.  “Oh man, what would I do?  Please, Anders, don’t – ow!”  
“You deserve it, you little shit.”

I gave him the finger, while Varric and Hawke laughed at us.

“Damn, kid, too bad you can’t avoid more than just magic.”

I stiffened, and stopped bitching at Anders to glance up at Varric.  The dwarf was laughing, and he seemed pretty chill, but Varric was near impossible to read sometimes.

“Well, that’d be fuckin’ aces, but–”

“Can you honestly not go ten minutes without cursing?” Anders asked me, peevishly, pulling out another splinter.  I cursed again, as much from the pain as it was to get on Anders’ nerves.

“That’d be a no, then.” Hawke said, laughing it up. 

“I’ve just never heard someone with such foul language.  And I’ve travelled with Grey Wardens.”

“I’ll talk how I wanna talk, so suck it.”

Anders sighed, but thankfully he was done with the splinters.  He bandaged me up and warned me off excessive moving so that they’d heal up quicker.  I ignored his pointed statements about how magic would’ve healed my wounds completely, and just thanked him. 

At the end of the day, I had to spend the night at Hawke’s.  The alienage gates were closed by the time we left Anders’, so we didn’t even try to stop there.  Hawke held off on the serious talk for later, when it was just me and him, sitting around the fire at his place.

I was finally getting relaxed; I’d taken up a spot on the floor, as per usual, and was lying on my stomach since it would’ve been slightly painful to lay on my back.  Anders had rubbed salve into my wounds, for the pain, but it had no effect, as I knew it wouldn’t.  Hawke started talking when my eyelids were beginning to droop.

“Are you doing this to spite me?”

Confused, I lifted my head and looked around at him.  “Huh?”

Hawke frowned down at me from his spot on the couch.  “All this dangerous shit you’ve been getting yourself into.  Are you doing it because I keep telling you not to?”

I rolled my eyes.  “Oh, get over yourself.  I need cash.”

“Cash?” Hawke shook his head, physically overlooking the word in order to start some new tirade or something.  “If you’re in trouble, you know I can–”

“’M not in trouble, man.  Just makin’ money.” I said tiredly, rubbing at my eyes. 

“I have money.  Maker knows I have more than enough.  If you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

I sat up. “I’m not gonna take your money, Hawke.  I don’t need–” I struggled with the words, not quite knowing how to say that I didn’t need money for anything other than for my own savings.

Hawke leaned forward, resting his arms across his knees, and shook his head at me, like he couldn’t understand.

“I don’t get it.  You’d rather get yourself killed than take money from me?”

“No.  Ugh, I just don’t want your charity.”

Hawke looked at me in disbelief.  “My charity?  Fitz, it wouldn’t be – is that what you think I’m doing?  Pitying you?”

I pursed my lips.  He was a bit spot on, but it went further than that.  I didn’t need Hawke’s help to survive.  I could do it on my own.  Also, I didn’t want to explain why I was trying to save up money.

“I can handle myself, Hawke.  Stop treatin’ me like a kid.”

Hawke leaned back, throwing his arms up.  “Oh, I can’t be worried for you?  I’m not–”

“Yeah, you are.” I pushed back.  “You keep actin’ like I can’t do shit.  Newsflash, man, I’m an adult.  And I can take care of myself.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help sometimes.  You know that, right?”

I looked away from him, his eyes too intense.  “I don’t want help.”

Hawke stood up.  “All of us want help, Fitz.  I don’t know why you always have to be the one to deny it.”

He left me sitting there, and I watched him head up the staircase with a frown.  I directed my gaze back to the fire when I heard his door shut, and tried to purge the conversation from my mind.  He wouldn’t get it, even if I tried to explain.  If I could ever find the words, that is.

~

I don't think either of us really spoke again about that moment, though we both knew, at some level, that Hawke was right when he gave me that small talking-to.  I had a lot of trouble being around people back then, and I had an even harder time letting people in.  Still do, but, when I compare the past to the present, I can clearly see how far I've come.  Even at the time of our big fight, I was still intent on holding back with people, even Amrita to some extent.  

And I was still intent on pushing Hawke away.  I didn't really want to, not at my core at least; but I had yet to kick the habit of lying and avoiding the truth.  Anybody who has experienced self-hate in any its forms, whether it be in terms of worthiness or having trouble sharing themselves and their feelings, know how hard it is to open up; even to the people closest to them.  I couldn't just shed that aspect of myself; it was a flaw I could only slowly progress past.  I wish that it was more like a habit I could just quit cold-turkey, you know?  But, it wasn't.  

When Hawke finally cornered me, I didn't want to let him in and I didn't want to share anything.  I wanted to be left alone, because when I thought of him, I was only reminded about how much I'd fucked up.  It was easier to ignore it, than it was to address it.  In a way, it was probably a good thing Hawke forced me to stop running, because who knows how long I'd have kept it up.  Even if I didn't appreciate, or agree with, the way he decided to confront me, I have to admit that it helped me realize some things.  Important things.

~

“That was weak.”

I groaned, and threw my daggers down on the ground.  “Okay, cool, did I ask you?”

I whirled around, only to realize that I’d just said that to Cassandra of all people.  She simply raised one impressive eyebrow at me, not even remotely put off by my attitude.  I rolled my eyes and threw myself down next to the practice dummy I’d just attempted to eviscerate.

It was late, nearly dark, which made the practice grounds nicely deserted for this little jaunt of mine.  The small area was tucked away behind the tavern.  It was also right outside of the requisitions office, which Cassandra was currently standing in front of, watching me.  I could only guess that she’d just finished terrifying the guy in charge of requisitions into getting supplies or some shit like that. 

I ignored Cassandra’s staring, until it went on for far too long and I was basically forced to look over.  I almost jumped when I realized she had approached me, and was actually looking down at me.  She held out a hand, and I nearly gaped.

“What d’ya want?” I asked, not moving.

She let out a huff of breath, almost like she was regretting this already.  However, all she did was push her hand further in my face rather than back away.  She was pretty much refusing to let me angst in peace.

“There is still some light left in the day,” she began, as I reached up to grab her hand.  “I will show you how to hit.  Hard.”

I made a face as she single-handedly pulled me to my feet, with surprisingly little participation on my part, and I tried to conceal my surprise.  I hadn’t exactly spent much time with Cassandra.  I mean, she was one of Amrita’s closest friends, and I’d traveled with her on the few times I had joined their little troupe on missions and stuff, but we didn’t speak much. 

“Yeah, I’m kinda sickly these days, so–”

“I know.”  Her stare did not waver, not until she unsheathed her sword and held it up to the poor dummy next to us.  I took a quick step back, wanting to tell her that I really did not need an impromptu sword lesson.  “Lavellan said you’ve been getting better.  Slowly, but better nonetheless.”  Cassandra threw me an impassive look, still in a ready-to-fight position.

“If your health is improving, there is no excuse for not training.  Particularly when you dearly need it.”

Feeling slightly insulted, I opened my mouth to speak; probably to say something rude.  However, at the same time, Cassandra attacked the practice dummy in a series of strong, decisive hits that looked even more brutal than they sounded (which was saying something).  I closed my mouth, needless to say.

When she was done abusing the dummy, Cassandra turned neatly and held out her sword to me.

“Have you ever used a long sword before?”  She looked down at my daggers, which were laying a few feet away.  “I think you may be–”

I made a surprised sound, and almost dropped the sword I had just accepted from Cassandra.  It was heavier than I’d thought it would be.

“The fuck is this made out of?  This is so unnecessary!”  I gripped the hilt with both hands, until I got used to the weight of the thing.  All the seeker did was roll her eyes at me.

“You’ve grown weak,” she said, sounding disapproving.  “Have you not once attempted to keep up with your physical training?”

“I been runnin’, that count?”

She stared me down for a moment, and I thought she was going to say something, but all she did was take a step back.  She jerked her head towards the dummy, sending me the nonverbal signal to make my own attempt at beating the thing up.  I shrugged, mentally, and gave it my best.

My first attempt was dismal.  My moves weren’t as solid, nor as forceful, as Cassandra’s and I was clumsy, which was to be expected since I’d never used swords before.  But, the seeker kept me at it until we literally could not see through the darkness that had fallen around us, sometime after our fifth set of offensive maneuvering against a defenseless practice dummy.

I nearly dropped Cassandra’s sword again, as I handed it over to her after calling it quits.  I fell in a heap next to the dummy we’d just abused, and focused on catching my breath.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, doing the whole exercise thing again.  I knew it wouldn’t be long til I was in good shape again, but my health had really done a number on me.  Only five sets and I was trembling from the exertion. 

I didn’t tell Cassandra that I wasn’t exactly supposed to be doing physical activities, and it was obvious she had no idea either or else she never would have allowed it.  Solas had strongly suggested I take it easy, and he’d gotten into the habit of occasionally sending Cole out to randomly supervise me; just to make sure I wasn’t doing anything that could result in major harm, should I pass out suddenly or something.  This practicing didn’t matter though, not really.  I mean, yeah, it probably wasn’t the smartest thing for me to be handling daggers and swords at that point in life.  There was the slight chance that I would have impaled myself if I had passed out mid-swing.  That could’ve turned pretty gross, but I didn’t pass out, so it all worked out anyways. 

Besides, my episodes were few and far between.  It was kind of like the sudden influx of dreams were taking over the part of me that kept sending me into the realm of the unconscious at inopportune times.  I don’t really know how I felt about it back then, but I guess I kind of appreciate the dreams now; though I will admit that when I first started getting them, they definitely freaked me the hell out.  When they didn’t result in astronomical amounts of pain upon waking up, I guess I didn’t mind them all that much.  I mostly appreciate them because they gave me the chance to remember so much; shit I’d forgotten, or stuff that I just hadn’t thought of in forever.  Besides, it was better than falling down in a dead faint, right in the middle of some crowded room in Skyhold, and undergoing massive amounts of public embarrassment because of it.

I don’t know how long I sat there, just breathing in and out, enjoying the cool night air.  But, I don’t think it was too long, because Cassandra stuck around to talk.  She probably let the silence go on for a minute before speaking.

“You had no idea, then?” she asked, suddenly and rather abrasively.  She’d said the question like an accusation, causing me to look up at her in surprise, partially because of her tone as well as from the fact that she was still here.

“Huh?”

Cassandra sighed, though it sounded more like a grunt, and shook her head.  “Of course you do not.  You never know anything.”

“Hey!  That’s…well, you’re not wrong, but still – rude!”

She looked down at me, almost seeming startled by the scowl I was sending her way.

“Oh.  I did not mean…I apologize,” she ended up saying, around another sigh.  “That came out wrong.  I only meant that I know you did not lie to me as well.”  Cassandra muttered something about ‘traitorous dwarves’, and I narrowed my eyes.

“I wasn’t aware you thought that.  That I lied to you, or whatever.”  I started doing some light stretches, as I went on.  “What about?”

When she didn’t answer, I looked up.  She had both eyebrows raised, as though she thought I was trying to be funny.

I struggled to hold in an eye-roll, and settled on standing up again instead.  If she was going to insist on hanging around, I’d prefer to talk face-to-face, rather than face-to-boots.  Once I was standing, I repeated my question.

“About Hawke.  What else?”  Her tone suggested that she thought I was dumb, but I shrugged it off.  Suddenly, my insides went all sour. 

“Agh,” I groaned, unintentionally.  I looked around, despite the dark, just to make sure the sheer mention of his name would not summon the damn guy.  It was safe, so I turned back to Cassandra.  “Yeah, trust me, I had no fuckin’ clue.”

I went to say good-bye, thinking we had nothing else to say, but the seeker stopped me.

“Fitz, wait.”  I paused, slowly turning back to face her, confusion on my face.  Cassandra looked hesitant, but then determination took over and she spoke her mind.

“You knew him well then?  The Champion?”

I froze, remembering all at once that we’d never advertised that fact.  My mind went into motion, wondering if Bull was talking shit about me, or if Varric had mentioned something.  I disregarded that last bit real quick, I doubted he and the seeker were on speaking terms at the moment anyways.

“No,” I said, trying to curb the suspicious tone in my voice as well as the hope that I wasn’t about to be caught in a lie.  “I spent time in the tavern, the…uh, Hanged Man.  Bound to run into those guys at some point, ya know?  Don’t mean we were…close.”

Her narrowed eyes spoke lengths, and I held back a cringe. 

“I do have eyes,” she said, a bit sarcastically (which honestly took me a bit off-guard).  “And ears.”

I stared at her, a frown quickly forming on my face.  “What’s that mean?”

She gave me as stern look, tilting her head just slightly upwards so that her chin was raised.  “People have been talking.  About the two of you.”  The seeker paused, seeming to second guess herself for a moment, before continuing.

“Sera may have mentioned that…Hawke was,” she coughed, one distinctly awkward sounding cough.  I squinted at her and just barely refrained from tilting my head in confusion.  “Obsessed.  With you.”

I gaped, wondering if I had honestly just heard those words come from Cassandra’s mouth.

“Obsessed? What the–” I sputtered, though I also made sure to do a quick glance-about for the man we were currently discussing.  “Sera’s makin’ shit up.”

“The Inquisitor did not seem to think so,” Cassandra reclaimed her dignity quickly, after those awkward words about Hawke.  She was also looking at me suspiciously.  “Apparently, the Champion has been making inquiries about you.”

The only light we had were that of the moon and the faint glows coming from the buildings that encased the small training grounds we stood in.  At some point, after the sun had fallen completely, torches had been lit and they hung from the walls around us like majorly old-fashioned streetlamps.  All I’m saying here is that there was enough light that I could make out Cassandra’s face, and she could make out mine.

I turned away from the seeker, and threw myself into searching for my daggers.  They were lying where I had tossed them, just a few feet away from where me and Cassandra had been facing off.  Picking them up, I made a whole big deal of wiping them off and sliding them back into the grooves on my belt.  My actions did not deter Cassandra from questioning me further.

“Leliana told me–” that was all she had to say, before sense started rolling in.

“Oh!”  I exclaimed, a bit relieved.  “ _She_ told you.  Heh, thought people were actually talkin’ shit.”

Cassandra sent me a slightly frustrated look.  “I am _trying_ to ask why you kept this hidden.”  She took a breath, probably reigning in the previous irritation, and went on.  “I trusted Leliana when she confided in us her reports from Kirkwall, and I agreed not to confront you.  She said Kirkwall had traumatized you, and that you were nothing more than another innocent civilian.”

I felt indignant, and shocked at the sudden outpouring of words Cassandra was currently throwing at me.  I remembered, of course, the time in Haven when Leliana had cornered me and all but revealed my (nearly) complete history with Kirkwall, and Hawke.  I don’t know why I just assumed she would keep that information to herself, which was just so stupid of me.  It made complete sense that she would tell the other advisors as well as Cassandra.  However, despite my ignorance, I was more surprised at the fact that the spymaster had requested I be left alone.  If I wasn’t so intimidated by the woman, I would’ve been oddly touched by the consideration, but mostly I was indignant.

“Okay, traumatized?  Pfft, as if–” Hell if I was going to own up to that.

Cassandra scoffed.  “I would not refute that if I were you.  Otherwise you would not be so diligent in your attempts to hide from the Champion.”

I stared at her, gob-smacked, before directing my gaze to the stars above.  “ _Jesus_ , is there no one in this goddamn fortress that don’t know ‘bout this?”

I heard Cassandra snort this time.  “Yesterday, you pushed a barrel, a _series_ of barrels, into his path as you ran from him.”  She gave me a judge-y sort of look.  “You are not subtle.  At all.”

Scowling, I couldn’t help but concede to her point.  I was saved from saying anything when Cassandra sighed, and spoke once more.

“However, it is true that not everyone is aware of your…connections,” she admitted.  “I only know from what Leliana has told me and, despite her resources, I know she does not have the whole story.”

I made a face, feeling pretty antsy to get out of there.  “Yeah?  Cool.”

I was thrown off-guard once more when Cassandra aimed an intense look my way.

“Do not misunderstand my questions, Fitz,” she said, inclining her head.  “The Inquisitor has assured us all of your trustworthiness.  I will not pry into what is clearly personal.  It’s just…your relationship with the Champion is rather curious.  I mean no offense.”  She was quick to add the last bit, as if she really thought I’d be offended.  I just laughed.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I told her, hoping this meant she would leave me alone.  “I was just some kid, anyways.  Wasn’t nobody important.”

She opened her mouth, to say what I do not know.  I interrupted before she could get a word out.

“But, hey, thanks for the pointers.” I said, putting some enthusiasm in my voice for good measure.  “Maybe you could, uh, help me again sometime?”

She raised a brow, but I almost rejoiced when I saw her lips turn ever so slightly upwards.

“I suppose I have more I can teach you,” she told me.  “Though, I refuse to do so in the dark.”

Cassandra ended up becoming a teacher of sorts, when she had time.  Even then, she didn’t have a lot of it, so mostly I would just join her whenever she was practicing herself.  The seeker spent most of her limited free time at the training grounds, so I didn’t feel all that bad about taking up her time.  And, she always practiced early in the morning, which meant I did not have to worry about running into Hawke, as not many people in their right mind woke up that early to begin with.

It was weird; Cassandra was way too uptight and mature for me to really get along with, but I truly came to appreciate her, and I guess you could say she tolerated me pretty well in return.  She taught me how to use a sword, and while I’ll probably always be better with daggers, I had a feeling this new skill was bound to come in handy.

I was kind of hoping my relative spring back to semi-good health would allow it so that I could return to scouting.  Sure, I was always in some sort of pain or whatever, but I was used to the constant aches and discomforts for a while by that point.  The main thing was that I wasn’t passing out as much anymore; a fact I would relentless remind Solas, and Amrita, about.  However, apparently it was not enough, because the both of them just kind of waved me away. 

I wanted out of Skyhold for obvious reasons; just to get out (I’d been cooped up forever, goddammit) as well as for the fact that being out of Skyhold would give me an optimal advantage in the Avoiding Hawke game I had going on.

Granted, none of that panned out, but it was nice to think about.  For a little bit, at least.

~

It was a rather sunny day in Skyhold when Hawke finally snapped.

I was in the library, sitting in one of the alcoves that was down a little ways from where Dorian always stationed himself.  I, and the rest of the library, heard the sounds of a slight altercation down in Solas’ space, which immediate piqued all of our interests.  We were all listening when a pair of heavy footsteps began to climb up the staircase.

I shoved myself off the comfy chair I’d claimed for myself, and peeked out of my alcove with blatant curiosity.  Honestly, I thought it was going to be someone Dorian had pissed off, since the man was always making other people look and feel like utter imbeciles.  I thought I was going to get to watch Dorian annihilate some idiot.  But, oh god, that so did not happen. 

It was Hawke. 

I watched, surprised, as he stopped next to Dorian and I heard my name clear as day fall from his lips, even though I was a few bookshelves away.  And Dorian, that asshole, he gave me up without a moment’s hesitation.  He didn’t even stop to think, ‘hey, maybe don’t send the fuming man in poor Fitz’ direction’.

Hawke’s eyes followed the direction of Dorian’s waved hand, and they locked onto me immediately.  Then, he was moving quickly; taking long strides past bewildered librarians and archivists, heading straight for me. 

Pointing at me, he ordered, “Don’t you dare move.  I will chase you.”

I gaped, was still gaping when he finally came to a stop in front of me.  And, shit, we were so close to being the same height, it was ridiculous.  But, it was still undeniable that Hawke had a couple inches on me.  I only point it out because he stationed himself so damn close to me, he was practically looming over me.

“We’re talking this out now.  No more running away, and no more deflecting.  I refuse to leave without a semblance of an answer for what you did.”

“Hawke,” I hissed, glancing around at the awed faces staring at us. “Fuckin’ hell, man.  We are in the  _library_.  And you are  _shouting_.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, making it a point to say his next words in an even louder voice.  “And we are going to talk.  Right here, right now.  About how you broke my fucking heart.”

There were gasps, and whispers, and I just about melted into the floor.  All I could do was stare at the guy, with an expression of utter horror on my face.  I couldn’t believe he had decided to make a scene like this.  In a fucking silent library.  With a whole fucking audience.

“You motherfuc–”

“Careful, Fitz.  We’re in a library,” he whispered the words mockingly, imitating my own tone from earlier, and leaned in close to my face.  I had the wild urge to throw the heavy book, that I had a death grip on, right at his face.

“What d’ya fuckin’ want from me?  Huh?”  I hissed, turning my back on him in order to put the book away before I did something regrettable.

“You know what I want.  I want to know why you’re acting like this…like you  _hate_  me.  When I already know you don’t feel this way.”

I whipped around, gaping once more. “What?”

“Varric told me about your little penchant for self-hate and your own destruction.  And, when I thought about it, suddenly all those odd words you said to me, back in Cullen’s office, made sense.”

He stared at me heavily, and continued, “You can’t push me away by making me hate you.  I won’t allow it.  I will never do anything but lov–”

“You know, maybe I really did just wake up one day thinkin’,” I was sputtering.  Hawke had taken me so off my guard, I wasn’t even thinking clearly.  All I could think was that I had to get out of this.  “Like, ‘oh, what a perfect day to break Hawke’s fuckin’ heart’!  Maybe I really am that shallow.”

“Are you joking?  You don’t think I know you better than that?” Hawke spat back at me, angrily. “If that’s the truth, I’ll rebuy the fucking Bone Pit.”

“I can’t do this.  I don’t hav–”

“Oh, don’t give me that.  That’s all you ever say,” Hawke scoffed, throwing one hand in the air. “It’s not that you ‘can’t’, it’s that you won’t.  It’s always been like this.”

I had to pause, to take some breathers and reorient myself lest I let my anger take over everything.  It was so easy to just get angry right back at Hawke, even though I knew it was all my fault and that he had every right to be like this. 

“Then, I won’t.  And that’s that.  Nothin’ more to say, ya happy now?”

“Maker be damned, as if there isn’t more to say,” Hawke retorted, advancing on me. “We are finishing this discussion whether you like it or not.  You owe me that much, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but  _not in the fuckin’ library_.”

“Too late now.  You should have thought about that before you insisted on hiding from me.” Hawke declared, totally unrepentant, and he really was completely oblivious to the wide-eyed stares and open mouths turned our way.  How could he notice?  He was the freaking Champion of Kirkwall; he was used to that sort of treatment on a daily basis.

I backed away from him, turning the other way, while I tried to think of a way to escape.

“I can’t–”

Hawke didn’t let me get far.  He grabbed onto my arm, tight enough that there was no getting away. 

Staring at the ground, I slowly said, “Hawke, let go.”

“No.  I’ve been trying to do that and it’s not working.”

I could very much feel the weight of his sole focus on me, but I still flinched when he brought his free hand to my face.  Even though I was still angry as hell, I regretted the involuntary flinch, because I knew Hawke would never raise a hand in anger towards me, and yet I couldn’t stop my body was tensing up regardless.  He nudged my chin upwards with a light touch, forcing me to turn slightly and meet his eyes.  I was surprised to see not anger, but sadness in them.

“Please don’t ask me to let you go.  I don’t believe I can.”

I almost cried.  I asked myself; why couldn’t he realize that we were just a bad idea?  Why didn’t he see that I wasn’t good for him?  I hurt him time and time again, mostly on purpose and yet he still wanted me back in his life.  I was trying to do this all to save him the pain later, when I’m gone for good, but he was making it damn near impossible.

When I could finally respond, my voice came out broken and quiet, “Hawke, I’m not g–”

But, I never got to tell him about how bad I was for him.  He cut me off swiftly, but gently, and almost swept me off my feet.

Hawke brought his hands up and cradled my face with such care that I didn’t even think to try and back away this time.  I was in shock, and it took me a second to realize what he was even doing; I was so off-guard.  But, then he tilted my head up, and leaned in.

Right there, smack dab in the middle of the packed library, whose inhabitants were already hooked onto our every word, Hawke kissed me like he’d been waiting to do it all his life.

“–awke!” I pushed away from him, jumping backwards just to put some distance between us.  I had one hand hovering over my mouth, as I stared at him in shock.  I started panicking not a second later.  “Fuck, what the _fuck_?  Oh my god.”

“Fitz–”

“You – you kissed me!  What the fuck!”  I shouted, still staring at him with wide eyes, though my shock was quickly turning into a weird form of rage. 

“Could you calm down, for just–”

I talked right over him, I just couldn’t believe he'd done that.  “Fuck you, what’d ya fuckin’ do that for?”

I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine.

“Because, Maker knows why, but I love you, Fitz,” he said loudly, in case I tried talking over him again.  His confident gaze never once deviated from my dazed gawking; his words had effectively frozen my rising anger.  “And I wanted to see something.”

I stammered at the full-on confession, and ended up latching, wildly, onto the latter part of his sentence.

“And w-what was that?”

“You kissed me back.  So, what do you think that says?”

“That I’m–” That I’m going to fuck everything up. 

I shook my head, “Hawke, I  _can’t_.  I really,  _really_  can’t.”

I ducked past him, and the arm he attempted to block me with, heading for the stairs that led to Solas’ rotunda.  I passed by too many stunned faces, who all turned to watch me go.  Even Dorian was unabashedly staring at me in shock.  I had to weave my way around all these frozen people, and the worst of it was that I wasn’t alone in this bout of library racing.  Hawke was following me.

Once I’d jumped practically all the steps leading down to the bottom floor, I bounded straight across Solas’ room, shooting past the man himself without a word.  Like everyone else, he appeared to be inclined to watch me go as well.  I rushed for the door, the one that led to the ramparts, with Hawke right on my heels.  I let out a stream of curses, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore, and when we were finally away from all the prying eyes and the dead silence of the library, I whirled around to face him once again.

“Why won’t you just get it?” I practically screamed the words at him, closing the small distance between us as if he’d be able to see how mad I was.  As if he’d be able to understand what I meant through just one, angry look.

“How am I to understand what you are refusing to explain?” Hawke yelled right back, and we were both red in the face.

The wind was vicious.  It was blowing violent gusts of air; gusts that zipped past us, making a shrill whistling sound as it went by our ears.  My hair was probably getting to rat’s nest-levels, I didn’t even try to push it out of my face, because I knew that the wind would’ve just returned it anyways.

“Jesus, _fuck_ , man.  You can’t just go around, _kissing_ people–”

“I was kissing _you_!”

“Well, don’t!”

I took a step back after that last bit of yelling; I had suddenly realized we were breathing heavily, right in each other’s faces.  As close as we had been, back in the library. “ _Don’t_ …don’t do that.”

I think Hawke heard the tears in my voice, though my eyes were dry, because he took a step back as well, and the anger left him like the wind that kept racing past us.

“Why’d you leave?”  Hawke asked, and I struggled to ignore the forlorn tone his voice held.  “At least tell me that much.”

“Oh, come on, Hawke.” I said; turning my head to the side, so I wouldn’t have to look at him, and I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Can you even imagine if I had stayed?  You would’ve kept me locked up while all that…that shit went down!  You never would’ve let me out the goddamn house.”

“You can’t know that.  I–”

“That look says otherwise,” I exclaimed, looking back at him, just in time to catch the troubled look he wore.  I pointed, rather rudely, at his face, before going on.  “Tell me straight out, full honesty – that you wouldn’t have boxed me away during those years.  When Kirkwall went to complete shit.”

His silence said it all, and he knew it too.  Didn’t stop him from responding, though.

“You want to talk about ‘full honesty’?  That’s grand, coming from _you_.”

“Oh, real mature.  Kudos to you.” I spat back at him.  “I’m talkin’ ‘bout how you’d have totally locked me up, instead of letting me be free.  God, you used to act like my father rather than my–” I swallowed my words in one sharp gulp, almost gasping from the urgency with which I had forced myself to stop talking.

Surprisingly, Hawke seemed to back down.  He kept his eyes on me though, watching me even more closely than before.  I tried to shake the feeling of it off.

“I don’t have time for this.  I gotta…” I trailed off, and I turned to go, heading towards Cullen’s office tower.  However, in a flurry of movements, Hawke was in front of me, blocking me.  Predictably.

“Fitz,” Hawke said, making clear attempts at sounding calm and reasonable.  “What happened to you?  Before we met?”

I gaped at him.  “W-what’s this about?”

“You know, I never wanted to think of it, but you always act like…someone hurt you, beyond forgiveness.”  He stepped forward, and I just stared.  “I don’t know, of course, but I want you to tell me the truth.  Were you a slave?  Or–”

“Wait a minute, did you seriously just – a _slave_?”

Hawke nodded slowly, like I was about to jump and run. 

I shook my head, almost in disbelief.  “You can’t possibly…No, man, not a fuckin’ slave.  You know my temperament woulda gotten me killed if I were.”

“Then can you please just explain your issue with…authority, and people?  You take everything as a personal affront, like you have to spite any and all people who attempt to tell you what to do.”  He kept going, with any sort of pause whatsoever.

“And that doesn’t even account for the fact that you still won’t talk about where you came from,” Hawke jumped right into the next issue he had with me, not allowing me to get a word in edgewise.  “You just appeared in Kirkwall one day, out of nowhere.  And nobody I’ve talked to – and I spoke with many – none of them had even the slightest clue where you’d come from.”

“ _What_?  You asked people ‘bout me?” I demanded, my voice too high, too strangled.

“Yes,” Hawke snarled the confirmation at me, his fists clenched in anger.  “Did you honestly think we wouldn’t be curious?  Did you think I would not try to find some lead on where you went, where you might’ve have gone after you left?”  Hawke’s tirade did not end there; he was clearly on a roll.

“That’s not even the point I’m trying to make here!  You were afraid, always afraid, back in Kirkwall.  I watched you flinch over every little thing, a single touch would have you frozen.  You treated hugs like they were an attempt at strangling you!”

Hawke said all of this, rapidly and with brutal force, and I felt like I’d been doused with ice water.  At last, he seemed to be winding down, when he said, “Oh, you act so confident now, but I can read you all too well.  I can see when you’re holding back a flinch.  Just like I can always tell when you’re lying.”

“I’m not lyin’!  I-I wasn’t a…a slave, or whatever, so don’–”

“But you were something!” Hawke practically yelled at me; though, when I look back at this fight now, I think he was just speaking very passionately, rather than actually bellowing in my face.   “Someone hurt you – at one point in your youth – and, Maker help me, I would tear them apart if I only knew who that person was.”

Hawke took a breath, and I just watched, trying to keep my appearance composed even as I took in the multitude of emotions playing out across Hawke’s face.

“And you won’t say a single word.  Not to me, not to Varric.  I bet you haven’t even told your precious Inquisitor.”  He sneered at the title, even though I knew he had no problem whatsoever with Amrita, but he went on before I could call him out.  “So, if it wasn’t some form of slavery, what was it?  Who made it so that you can’t be in a room without looking for all the exits first?  Who hurt you so much that you see friendly concern as imprisonment?”

“Shit, Hawke,” I muttered, looking anywhere but at him.  “Way to blow all this outta proportion.  I ain’t gotta talk if I don’t wanna.  And, fuck, we were talkin’ ‘bout you _babying_ me, not…not all that shit you just vomited at me!”  I was breathing heavy again, and I took a step back subconsciously, though I wasn’t done speaking yet.  “Anybody would get pissed over being locked up, and always bein’ told not to do ‘this’ or ‘that’.  Even if it was in a ‘for their own good’ sorta way.  Doesn’t mean somethin’ _happened_ to me,” I kept going, talking louder in case he tried to interrupt me.

“Basic human rights, yeah?  All that free-will shit.  I didn’t grow up in a–” Nope, not going there.  Time to reword.  “No one’s in charge of me, but me.  Not you, not anyone.  I don’t appreciate people tellin’ me what to do when I know damn well what I’m doin’, okay?  I _am_ looking out for my own ass and I don’t need any help doin’ it.”

“And you just blew right by my questions.  Bravo.  There’s more to it than just your blighted independence though, isn’t there?” Hawke said grimly, with those damn hazel eyes on me.  “Something _did_ happen to you, something that took that blessed freedom from you.  And it damaged you.  Anybody with half a brain could tell, just by…” he trailed off, but picked back up without finishing that sentences. 

“I just wish you’d trust me enough to _tell_ me.  If you ever trusted me with anything.”

“You know I’ve–” I was going to bring up all the times I’d trusted him with something, there were times.  I knew there were.  But, I hesitated.  I wracked my brain, but nothing came up immediately and I couldn’t stand there, not saying anything, forever.

“It’s not important,” I sighed.  “Move on, Hawke.  Stop wastin’ your time.”  I turned to leave, but Hawke reached out and held onto my shoulder.  I opened my mouth to tell him to let go, but he spoke over me.

“I’m not wasting my time.” His eyes were blazing when I looked into them.  I almost started gaping again, he just looked so damn determined.  “Contrary to what you seem to think, I know what _I’m_ doing as well.  And I’m going to wear you down.  You owe me answers, after all we’ve been through.  We had a bond once.  I know you haven’t forgotten it.”

He said the last few words so forcefully, like he was so sure, and I felt so horrible, because I knew he was right.

I could’ve shut him down right there.  Asked, ‘what bond?’, break him once more, and walk away.  But, I didn’t have the heart for it.  Maybe I was just weak, but I couldn’t ignore the part of me that loved him way back then.  I couldn’t ignore the confusing blend of feelings inside me, at that very moment. 

“When I kissed you–”

I pulled away from him, shaking my head. 

“I don’t get you, why…why the hell–”

I didn’t even finish speaking, I ran away.

~

Hawke didn’t follow this time, and I wasn’t exactly sure why, since I don’t think he really got the discussion he’d wanted.  He got no answers from me.  Or, maybe, he did.  I mean, it was true that we’d both pretty much exhausted our vocal cords, just yelling at each other so much.  And, besides, maybe that damn kiss told him everything there was to say about the feelings I refused to share, or maybe he saw the tears in my eyes as I ran from him.  Either way, I was such a fucking mess.

I flew through Cullen’s office, shocking him and one of his soldiers completely, but I went right through the door on the left-hand side of the room without so much as slowing down.  I didn’t let myself stop running til I felt like I was a good distance away from the library.  Once I did come to a halt, I couldn’t keep myself from falling to the cold ground.  I also couldn’t stop the strangled sound that left my mouth, as I buried my face in my knees.

I couldn’t believe any of that had happened.  It was too much, and, even after all the words shared between us, all I could think about was that Hawke had  _kissed_  me.  Kissed _me_.  I couldn’t forget the feeling, emotionally and…not so emotionally.  Like,  _physically_. 

My mind replayed the whole scene; the stares and the bookshelves, the way the whole world seemed to just  _stop_  around us.  And, how everything faded into nothing when his lips touched mine.  I thought about all the times I’d fantasized about that exact moment, and how I always cut myself off before I could even imagine how it’d actually feel to kiss him.  But, god, I don’t think my mind would’ve been able to come up with anything even close to the real thing anyways.  Nothing could compare, it was as simple as that.

And I was so pissed about it.  That fucking dick.  Making me  _feel_   _things_ , and shit.  Making me almost want to go back on my plans of distancing myself from him, all because he had to go and do something as stupid as kissing me.  And, saying he  _loved_  me.

It wasn’t fair and I wanted to kick and scream at it all.  Because, I wanted him, and I wanted to be with him  _really_   _badly_. 

But, I also felt like I didn’t deserve it.  I wasn’t even all that healthy, not with the way I was deteriorating.  The fainting spells, the blackouts, and everything may have lessened, but my future still wasn’t bright.  It wouldn’t be until it all stopped completely. 

I was almost to the point where magic would actually hurt, depending on the strength behind the spell.  It mostly came out of my fears, but I had the most awful feeling that I was dying, because it didn’t feel right.  My whole body felt wrong and stretched thin in this world; I always carried this light-headed feeling around with me, as if I wasn’t really there.  My feelings of not-belonging always used to be more mental than they were physical, and now it was the opposite.  I could  _feel_  magic, everywhere, and I hated it.

God knows why Hawke even cared about me, but if I let him in and then  _died_ , or went fucking comatose or something, I wasn’t sure he’d get over it.  I didn’t want to do that to him.  I just wanted him to be happy, without me there to always fuck it up. 

I think I fell asleep on that rampart.  Or, I had another episode, which was just as likely if I’m to be completely honest; it all started feeling the same at some point.  When I woke up, I was being carried up the stairs to Amrita’s room.

I heard the soft murmurs of two people talking, a whispered “thanks, Bull”, and the faraway sound of a door being closed.

Then, all I felt was the soft touch of Amrita’s fingers, as she carded them through my hair, and I fell asleep once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh happy valentine's day? >_> i didn't expect to have this out today...but it happened so i apologize for the angsty-ness.  
> as always, thanks so much for reading and commenting <3 love yall <3


	45. Act II: Really Gotta Get My Shit Together

Amrita let me crash in her room for a good few days after the library fiasco.  She hid me pretty well, though she did make sure to let me know that I had a few people asking after me.  The only one who really stood out, caught my attention and all that, was Varric.  I was glad Amrita didn’t let him in.

She was kind, like always, and I talked a little bit, but I honestly didn’t feel like doing it.  She already knew me and Hawke were close in Kirkwall, but I never told her how close.  I didn’t have to even mention the kiss; that news had probably spread through the entire fortress in one minute flat, so I knew she was already well aware.  There was no way I could say the words out loud anyways, even if Amrita had decided to bring it up, which she blessedly didn’t.

My friend just let me lay there, in her bed, and wallow in my (most likely overdramatic) misery.  She refused to get me a bottle of my favorite vodka-esque drink, and didn’t look all that amused when I requested it, but I guess I couldn’t really blame her.  It was nice enough that she was giving me a private place to just be alone to begin with.

I snuck out after the third day, in the middle of the night, after Amrita fell asleep.  The nights before she spent with Sera, to give me my space, and I was finally beginning to feel like I was overstaying my welcome.  I decided I might as well take my leave when the place was dead; less chance of being seen and having to flee in mortal embarrassment.  I did leave a thank you note before I left, with a little picture of a fox at the bottom which I knew Amrita would find cute.

The kitchens were dead when I entered them, so no one was around to catch me sneaking two bottles from the cellars.  I brought them along with me, as I left the building through the ground level door.  I had to walk across Skyhold, all the courtyards and everything, to get to the dungeons, but it felt nice to be out again.  Fresh air and all that.  Even if the ten million stairs were annoying.

Making my way down the long, winding staircase that led down to the cells, I made sure to keep one of my bottles snug in the crook of my arm while I held the other in my left hand.  I opened that one while walking, not caring when the thing opened with a pop; the cork flying out, bouncing off the wall next to my head before shooting its way down the stairs with a rather ominous sound.  I took a swig.

When I made it to the last step, I raised my bottle of wine to the guard on duty, who was already looking my way when I entered.  It was the same woman I made regular conversation with during my past visits to the dungeon, so I knew she’d be cool with my being there.  I missed the worried look on her face and just started walking right past her.

“Uh, ser, maybe you shouldn’t–”

I sidestepped her outstretched arm with ease, throwing out a grin to hopefully get her off my back.

“It’s good, just goin’ to my cell, yeah?”  I said, with such false cheer that it made me want to cringe.  “It’s cool.”

She said something else, but I was already through the door and she wasn’t following, so I didn’t really care.  I stood in the center of the unused cellblock for a second, momentarily taken in by the giant hole that lay in front of me.  The wind was loud, as was the running water that flowed far below, and the cool air felt so good, I had to take that moment to just stand there.  I got over it soon enough, and moved to the left, walking carefully over the uneven planks of wood that served as platforms to the rows of broken cells; platforms that sort of dipped a bit, towards the gaping hole that led down to the waterfall below.  The height of it was staggering, and it probably wasn't safe whatsoever, but I didn't care.  I headed to the cell I had long since claimed as mine.

I could barely make out the mural I had painted, as the only light was some distant torch, but I didn’t care; I wasn’t really looking at it anyways. 

The headache I’d been sporting for days left me as I continued taking long sips of my filched bottle.  I leaned my back against the stone wall, where my mural was, and closed my eyes.  The only sounds I heard were that of nature, coming from that dumb hole just a few yards away from me.  It was oddly relaxing, and maybe a bit mesmerizing. 

I was there for a while, just sitting back and drinking, but, as always, someone had to come along and ruin it.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

A sigh left me before I could even register the words.  I kept my eyes closed, and didn’t move.  I heard the speaker walk closer to me, their footsteps soft on the stone floor.  I couldn’t help but think that they should’ve been louder, heavier, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“It’s cold,” Cole said, and I heard him crouch down, once he came to a stop next to me.  “You need a blanket, or–”

“Chill, man.” I said, knocking back another swig.  I felt his disapproval radiating from beside me.  “You judging me, too?”

“No, not judging,” he said, sounding confused.  “I just don’t understand.  I never understand anything you do.”

I laughed.  “Me too, bro.”

I opened my eyes when I felt Cole settle in next to me, resting his back on my mural wall as well.  He wasn’t looking at me, but at the broken gate that seemed to hold back the worst of the wind from chilling our already cold area.  He had a point about the blanket thing, but if I drank enough, soon I wouldn’t even feel the cold at all.

“I should…I wish I could fix your hurt, but that’s impossible,” the kid murmured, almost to himself, and I frowned at the sadness in his voice, pausing with the bottle of wine at my lips.  “I tried to help, but it didn’t work.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that,” I told him, lightly.  I didn’t look his way, even though I could feel his eyes on me.  “Give it time, ‘kay?  I listened to you, just…I’m not a fuckin’ miracle, man.  I gotta fuck up a few more times, alright?”  I ended with a small, self-deprecating laugh that fell flat when Cole didn’t join in.  I knew he wouldn’t, that would’ve actually been kind of weird, but I still couldn’t stop the nervous laughter from leaving me despite its inappropriate nature.

“It’s not too late,” he said, after a moment.  “Hawke listened to you, too.  He even heard what you didn’t say, and what you don’t know yourself.”

“What’s that mean?”

Cole didn’t answer me, so I shook it off with another long drink.  My bottle was almost empty, and I could feel him looking at it.

“Don’t even,” I said, switching hands so that I held the bottle farther away from the kid.  I made sure that my second, unopened bottle was safe as well.  “You don’t take a guy’s alcohol, alright, kid?  So not cool.”

Cole just stared, and he didn’t apologize for the last time he stole alcohol from me.  I let out a small groan, totally done with the staring.

“Jesus, kid, can you go?” I asked, accidentally saying it way ruder than intended.  “Like, no offense, but I wanna be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, sounding weirdly intense.  Despite his words, and the conviction behind them, Cole stood up.  I watched, confused, as he walked away.

“Kid?”

Cole shook his head, and looked back briefly.

“You’re calmer.  Calmer than before, and quieter.  Less violent.”  I knew he was referring to how torn up I was right after Hawke cornered me three days previous, but I still had to squint at the kid.  I watched as he took a step over the threshold of the broken gate, and he met my gaze steadily before leaving completely. 

“You don’t think you’re ready, but that’s just because you keep telling yourself that you’re wrong.  You’re not wrong.”

Cole left, and I felt a bit blindsided as I replayed his words, attempting to make sense of them.

And those damn words left me feeling pretty fucking unnerved, and I found myself wondering if I should leave my cell.  I thought about it, but in the end I didn’t so much as move from my slouch.  Despite my sudden discomfort, I forced myself to remain where I was. 

I finished off my wine, and moved on to the unopened bottle. 

~

My next visitor arrived not long after Cole had departed.  I was expecting him by then.  Dreading it, but expecting it nonetheless. 

He sighed when his eyes landed on me.  Unlike Cole, he had brought a lantern along and he held it up, so that I could properly make out his unimpressed face as he looked me over.

Hawke took a step into the room when he was done with the staring, and I made sure he could see my scowl loud and clear.

“Come to yell some more?” I said, spitefully.  “I’m sorry, but there’s not much audience here.  Wanna move to the tavern?  That place probably has a few drunks who haven’t passed out yet.”

Hawke lowered his head, looking to the right and away from my glare.  Didn’t stop him from moving closer to me, however.  He stopped a few feet away from me.

“Well?  Don’t just fuckin’ stand–”

“I didn’t come here to yell at you,” he finally spoke.  I turned my head away quickly, when Hawke brought his head up to look at me.  “Your friend sought me out.  The…weird kid.”

“Don’t call him weird,” I spat, focusing my glare on the wall next to me.  I picked up my wine, and took a quick gulp.  “And his name is Cole.”

“Alright then, Cole,” Hawke sighed, leaning down and placing his lantern down on the floor, not far from where I was sitting.  I stiffened unintentionally when I heard Hawke sit down.  “He told me to come here.  Didn’t say you were…well, not in so many words – actually, the only thing I understood was that he wanted me to go to the dungeons.”

I snorted, taking another gulp.  “Called it.”

The silence that followed my short words was pretty deafening, and I think it was awkward for the both of us.  I shifted, and even though the sight of him made me want to ignore him, as if to make a petty point, I knew I couldn’t actually do that.

Cole was right.  I had thought long and hard on how to talk to Hawke, after our spat.  In the beginning of my wallowing period, I went through all those typical thoughts of ‘well shit, too late now, it’s all fucked to infinity and beyond’.  But, that was just in the beginning; after a few hours, my mind moved on.  Looking for ways to make it better.  I was still mad, which is probably obvious, but I think that was more because of my embarrassment.  Everything but the public display was pretty fair, so I couldn’t really fault Hawke for calling me out.  I had known for a while that I needed to talk to him, I had just waited until the boiling point.

I jumped a little when Hawke moved around, and when I peeked over my shoulder at him, I realized he’d only shifted himself so to be facing me better.  Leaning one shoulder against the wall, he opened his mouth to speak and I looked away before our eyes could meet.

“Listen, Fitz,” he started, his voice quiet and calm.  “I don’t want to draw out another angry silence between us.  I regret pushing you like that.  In front of everyone.”  He let out a sigh, and I snuck another look at him.  He was staring at the lantern that sat between us.

“I know how you dislike attention, and I know that talking – _really_ _talking_ – doesn’t come easy for you.  I shouldn’t have tried to force you into a situation like that, least of all in a room full of onlookers.  I apologize for that.  Sincerely.” 

Hawke sounded sad, and I knew he meant it.  I bit my lip, my hands shaking ever so slightly as I lifted my half-empty bottle for another drink.  I needed all the help I could get if we were really about to have this conversation.

He kept on with explaining himself.  “I was angry, and you kept _running_ from me.  Fitz, please forgive me–”

“You don’t gotta say you’re sorry,” I muttered, tilting my head in his direction, slightly, though I still couldn’t work up the courage to look at him.  “I get it.  I – I’m sorry, too.”

I took a deep breath, and Hawke stayed silent, even when I took a moment to string some words together. 

“I, uh – you know I’m not good at this,” I began, hunching my shoulders a little as I tried not to think about how I just knew my words weren’t going to come out like I truly wanted.  “I’m sorry for running, and stuff.  Oh, the barrels, too.  Sorry.”  I cringed as I remembered that instance, where I pushed over a stack of barrels right into his path, which Cassandra had apparently stood witness to.

“Think nothing of it,” Hawke meant it, though his tone was dry.  When I looked at him from the corner of my eye, his lips were tilted ever so slightly upwards.  The sight of that not-quite-smile emboldened me.

“I’ve been trying to figure out where to start, for a while now,” I said, shifting a little to face him rather than a stone wall.  “I can’t – I can’t say it all right now.  It’s, uh, too hard.  And, some of it I’m not ready to talk about.  But, I’m gonna tell you.  I swear.”  I aimed my words at his feet, since that was as close to looking at him as I could get.  He didn’t say anything, he just let me continue speaking.  It was easier that way; if I had stopped then, it would’ve been hard to start back up again.

“You were kinda right, by the way,” I said, spitting the words out quickly, almost forgetting to explain myself.  “When you were yelling, you asked me how I got to Kirkwall.  It, uh…it wasn’t willingly.  I – I guess you could say I was stolen.”  My heart was beating so fast, and my hands were shaking so much that all I could do was press them together; I couldn’t even hold onto my bottle.  It was okay though; I didn’t want to drink anymore.

“I don’t remember a whole, on how I got there, but…a blood mage – I mean, a group of them, technically – kept me in the sewers, for a while.  She, uh, she was fuckin’ crazy.  Liked to carve me up sometimes, with a knife, but – I lived, ya know?”  My nails were pressing into the skin around my knuckles, as I sat there telling my story with my hands clasped as if in prayer.  I told Hawke about my time in the sewers, minus the magic not working on me part.  One thing at a time.

It was so long ago, but I still found myself getting choked up when I thought about that part of my life.  I remembered the terror, the confusion, and everything else that I felt so strongly back then, when I was just a kid, and my whole life had just been turned upside down and pulled apart by some blood mage with screwed ambition and a knife.  As I talked, my scars seemed to itch, and I knew it was all subconscious, but I couldn’t help but scratch at them.  Pulling at the tunic I wore, to rub the scars that lay around my collarbone, I continued to tell Hawke my story.

“It just kinda fucked with my head.  I mean, I was just sixteen – didn’t know where I was and, like, _blood_ _mages_ , ya know?  But then I got out – pure luck – and found myself in this fucked up world, uh, _city_ and there was no one but me.  I made it work, even before I met you.  I was doin’ okay.”

“But, it fucked me up.  And I–” I sucked in a breath.  “I couldn’t talk about it.  I wanted to forget it.”  My nails were sinking into the skin just over my collarbone, and the small pain kept me going even though my throat was trying to close up on me.

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

I twitched when I felt Hawke’s outstretched palm cover the hand I had clutching the crook of my shoulder.  I had been so distracted, just from talking, that I had failed to notice Hawke scoot closer to me.  He knelt in front of me; leaning in, his closeness making it so that his head was just a few inches away from mine.  He wasn’t looking at my face, though I was finally looking at his.  Instead, his eyes were on my neck, and the exposed bit of my collarbone.

He had nudged my hand away, holding it gently in his, while he took a good look at the light scars that littered the base of my neck and trailed downwards, branching out like lightning.

“You’ve seen these before,” I murmured, trying to will away the tremors in my hands even though Hawke must’ve already noticed them.

“Yes, but now I know what caused them,” his voice was tight with an anger that I knew wasn’t for me.  “Is she, is that – that abomination…does she still–”

“She’s dead,” I told him, with a much firmer voice than before.  I told Hawke about how she’d kidnapped me; I reminded him of the time I got arrested and went from there.  He wasn’t happy to learn it, but he didn’t berate me for lying about it.  He was probably too busy thinking about how wrong it could’ve gone.  If I hadn’t managed to kill the ones who took me.

“But, why?” he asked, visibly shaking himself out of his thoughts.  He took away his hand from mine as if he had received some sort of invisible signal to give me space.  I appreciated it, even though I didn’t really mind his touch.  “What did she want with you?”

“I was her science experiment,” I muttered, not really thinking.  “Just a fuckin’ lab rat.”

“What?”

I cringed, of course saying that would only bring on more questions. I wrapped my tense fingers around my ankles, sitting crunched up with my knees bumping the underside of my chin.   I bit the inside of my cheek, and wondered if now was really the time to answer him truthfully.  With my track record: yeah, probably time to just own up and quit the lies.  But, at the same time, I wasn’t sure if I was ready. 

It was just that old indecisive monster coming back to bite me.

“Magic–” I choked on my words before I could even get a sentence out.

With gentle fingers, Hawke prized my hands from around my ankles, and held both of them with such care, all I could do was let him.  I tilted my head in his direction, but avoided his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles, over the crescents I had pressed into them earlier, when I had held both my hands in a nail-biting death grip.  “There’ll be time later, you don’t have to say it all right now.”

“Thanks,” I breathed, feeling my stomach unknot itself, just slightly. 

Hawke shifted around, coming out of his kneeling and situating himself so that he was sitting next to me, leaning his back against the wall this time.  He had to let go of me to move, but he covered my left hand with his right one when he was settled, and I tried to ignore the little jump my heart gave at his touch.

I closed my eyes, and fixed up my courage once more.  Hawke wasn’t asking anything, but I knew there was still more I had to say.  I took another deep breath.

“When I left, it–” I stopped, biting the inside of my cheek once more, and tried to figure out how to put together what I wanted to say.  I heard Hawke suck in a breath at my abrupt start, but he didn’t interrupt, not even at my long pause.

“I had to, ya know?  Ah, shit, you probably don’t.  Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”  I turned my head away, cheeks and ears burning.  I went on, speaking faster, as if that would make my embarrassing words go away.

“Kirkwall was…getting worse.  The Templars, and the mages–” I shifted, feeling Hawke’s hand move with mine. I flipped my palm over so I could entwine our fingers.  “I, uh, I did mean what I said before, too.  I didn’t like how you kept treatin’ me like a kid.  I wasn’t one.”

“I know that.”

Something about the soft edge in his voice pissed me off, just a little.  My next words came out slightly peevish, and I didn’t try to curb it.

“No, you don’t.” I told him, tilting my head even more in his direction.  “Or else you wouldn’t have…you wouldn’t have kept ordering me around.  Or–”

For the first time, Hawke interrupted me.

“I didn’t do all that because I thought you were a child, Fitz,” he said, still holding that soft edge, though it was somehow stronger.  I twitched, self-righteous anger bubbling up; probably so easily stirred because of the alcohol still in my system.  “All I wanted was to protect you.  I didn’t want to lock you away, like some errant child.  Though you did act like one.”

He said it jokingly, and I knew that, but I reacted badly anyways. 

Ripping my hand away, I spat back, “Fuck off.”

Hawke leaned back, away from me, holding his hands up.  “A joke, Fitz.  It was just a joke.”

I sighed, and sat back, forcing myself to relax, though I accidentally brought my head back too hard, and smacked it against the wall.  I played it off, only letting a slightly cringe cross my face, as I hugged my legs to my chest once again.

“Whatever, just…not funny.”

“Alright,” Hawke said easily, putting his hands down, resting them on his lap.  His elbows poked at my sides, and I forced myself not to scoot away. 

We sat there in silence for a bit; me with my arms wrapped around my drawn up legs, and Hawke with his legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles.  It would’ve been a comfortable silence, if not for the thoughts running through my head.  And if I hadn’t just snapped at the guy sitting next to me, all over a dumb joke.

“I left so I could…be free,” I made a face at the words, it sounded so cheesy, but I kept going anyways.  “I wanted to live on my own, without anybody, like, doin’ it all for me.  I didn’t want anybody’s help.  I wanted to see if I could do it by myself.”  I tightened my grip on my legs, watching Hawke’s feet again, for lack of courage.  I didn’t want to see his expression.

Hawke took a deep breath, and he sounded jaded when he responded. 

“That may be true,” I could tell from his tone that he wasn’t happy, and I closed my eyes.  “but it’s not the full truth.  There’s more.”

I didn’t let myself hesitate, I replied honestly.

“I was scared,” I told him, feeling a chill run down my back.  “Of Kirkwall, the – the people, everythin’.”  Of being found out.

“Myself included?”

“No,” I said, immediately.  He’d tried to say it lightheartedly, but I caught the underlying hurt in his voice.  I breathed through my nose when I realized how my quick response sounded, knowing I had to explain.  “I was never scared of _you_.”

He wouldn’t have nudged.  I could’ve stopped at that, but I went on.  Something inside just made me.  It was probably the alcohol.

“I mean, maybe a little bit.  But…that’s just ‘cuz of how I felt.  For you,” I muttered, leaning forward, hiding my face in my knees a little.  “That was kinda scary.”

Hawke was eerily silent.  As more time went on, I basically had to look back at him.  I jumped, just a little, when I turned only to find him leaning in, his face inches from my own.

The emotion on his face was overwhelming; he was looking at me with so much…care, that my throat closed up.

“Can I kiss you?”

I blinked, and my stomach dropped.

“No,” I said, my voice shaking.  I didn’t move away, but I did repeat myself.  “No, that’s not a good idea.”

Hawke’s eyes, and his closeness, lingered for a second longer, before he nodded and leaned back again.  I breathed easier with the renewed space between us, and tried not to think about it.

When Hawke next spoke, he addressed his words to the room at large.  When I looked at him, he was watching the ceiling as if it were made of the most interesting slabs of stone he’d ever seen.

“So, you know how I feel…pretty well, I would assume,” he said, smiling faintly.  The words ‘I love you’ ran through my head, momentarily short-circuiting my brain.  “I told you my feelings.  Can ask after yours?”

I huffed out a not-quite-laugh, just some nervous sound that I can’t really explain.  “I, uh – that’s not a good idea.  We shouldn’t–”

“That’s not what I was asking.” Hawke’s voice was firm, but not harsh.  “I just want to know if you feel the same way as I do.  Or, if you think you might, some day.  I don’t want to keep pressing you if I haven’t even a blighted chance.”

He knew he had a chance, I knew he did.  He just wanted me to say it, outright.  And I couldn't do that yet.  

I pushed myself up, tripping over my feet in my haste to stand.  “Hawke–”

“Whoa there,” he said, catching me before I fell on my face.  I didn’t know how he got up so fast, but there he was.  Standing next to me, holding me up.

You know when you get drunk, and you don’t really realize how far along you are until you stand after sitting for a long time?  Yeah, that was me.  Not crazy drunk, just enough where my feet didn’t want to work right.  My vision spun, just from moving so quickly.  None of that really mattered; I was still stuck on Hawke’s question.

“Hawke–” I didn’t even know where I was about to go with that sentence; it was probably a good thing Hawke interrupted me.

“Forget it,” he told me.  Despite the curt-sounding words, he was nothing but gentle and forgiving.  He wrapped one arm around my waist, and guided my own arm to hang around his shoulders.  “I’ll ask again later.  When you’re not drunk.”

“’M not _that_ drun – I mean, okay.”

Hawke chuckled, and the sound made me smile.

He had the lantern in his hands, and I guess the lifted light caused his eyes to be caught by the artwork we had been leaning against this whole time.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, eyes roaming over the city-scape I had drawn.  I leaned into him, studying my picture alongside him.  “Did you – ?”

“Yeah,” I said, faintly. 

“What, uh, what’s it of?”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed.  He’d basically said the exact same as Varric, right down to the slight hesitation in his voice. 

“Home,” I let out, my mouth once again speaking before my mind agreed to the words.  I didn’t feel any sort of terror at the slip; in fact, I felt easy about it.  If that makes sense.  Curiously, I looked up at him, to gauge his reaction.

He was still looking at the mural, with furrowed brows.  “Huh.  I…I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the likes before.  Those are…buildings, then?”

I nodded, covering my mouth to hide my snickering.  “Skyscrapers.”

Hawke asked me what those were, but I could only shake my head.  In the end, he sighed and gave up.

“Alright, I guess standing makes you wacky,” he said, dryly, while I continued laughing.  “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

~

"You're so stupid, ya know that, right?" I told him, once we made it to level ground and into the deserted courtyard.  I didn't explain myself, and he didn't ask, but I think he might've known what I meant anyways.  

Why like _me_?

His arm around my waist was comforting, in a way that I never expected to feel from another person's touch.  And, when he didn't ask why I accused him of stupidity, I gave up holding back and leaned even more into him.  I definitely could've handled walking on my own, had been able to since he'd first steadied me back in the cell.  I didn't say anything, and all he did was hum as we walked.

Hawke helped me up to my room, and this time, when I woke up, I wasn’t mortified at what happened the night before.  I felt at ease.

~

“You got somethin’ to say, then say it to my face, you motherfucker!”

I glared down this guy, some noble, who had been whispering about me for the past few minutes.  It might have only been a few seconds; I didn’t really have much patience for shit-talking, so it doesn’t matter either way.

The guy jumped, and the group of gossiping nobles whom he had been whispering with inched away from him.  The guy, looking very affronted, fled in embarrassment, blessedly leaving my general vicinity and heading to the opposite end of the main hall.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” I said, smugly, before returning my attention back to the table I sat at.  I met Amrita’s unimpressed expression with an unrepentant one of my own.

She sighed, pen in hand, hovering over a piece of paper while I stole bits of fruit from her barely touched plate of food.

“I really wish you wouldn’t antagonize the nobles,” Amrita told me, sounding kind of bitter.  “I always have to apologize afterwards, and that just gives them the opportunity to talk my ear off.”

“Aw,” I gushed, leaning in and adopting a sympathetic face.  “That has got to suck.  Have you thought about, maybe, _not_ apologizing?”

She huffed, giving me a little glare before turning back to writing.  “Oh, easy for _you_ to say.  I’m going to start sending Josephine after you, when those nobles decide to complain to her.”

I made a face.  “Okay, please don’t.  I’ll chill, but, like, no promises.”

Amrita laughed, shaking her head.  “Scared of Josie?”

“More like of the lecture she’ll give me,” I hissed, not joking around whatsoever.  “She caught Sera this one time, and I thought–”

“Scholar!”

I turned around, to look at the spot Varric usually sat, only to realize he wasn’t there.  Instead of sitting near the fireplace across the hall, he was striding out of the library, waving at me as he walked my way.  Something in the way he held himself told me that he wanted to talk, and from the way he was gesturing, I assumed he wanted to go someplace else.

I said goodbye to Amrita, who waved me off with little fanfare, and went over to Varric.  I only felt the slightest bit of tension, which was probably good progress or something.  A day ago I would’ve booked it out of the main hall just at the sound of that nickname.

“Yo,” I greeted, looking around for Hawke.  The man wasn’t in sight.

“You can relax,” Varric told me, with good humor.  “Hawke’s doing business right now.  I was just wondering if you wanted to take a walk with me?  Get some fresh air.”

I agreed, after a moment’s hesitation.

We walked out of the hall through the main entrance, winding our way down the wide staircase that brought us to the front courtyard.  Varric led us in the opposite direction of the tavern, instead bringing us to another, though less spirally, walkway.  I didn’t really know if he had a destination in mind, or if he really did just want to explore the lower courtyard, maybe hit up the front gates.  Knowing Varric, however, I was willing to bet that wasn’t the case.

“What’s up?” I asked, unable to take the silence anymore.  Varric seemed to enjoy simply looking around at the life around us; the people at work, the birds, the talking.  But, he had an ulterior motive when he requested my presence and I knew it.  I was just a bit too tired to play along.

“Nothing,” he replied, and I narrowed my eyes at his light tone.  He chuckled, and finally gave in.  “Fine, I won’t draw it out any longer.”

“Heard you had a talk with Hawke,” Varric said, going on, undeterred, even as I scowled.  “Meaning the dungeon talk, not the legendary library incident, Scholar.  Which, really?  The dungeons?  Not exactly where I would’ve done the whole heart-to-heart scene.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.  “Not a book, Varric.  And heart-to-heart?  Melodramatic enough, huh?”  I made a face.

He raised his brows, delivering me a knowing look as I sidestepped a harried woman carrying a lot of blankets.  “More melodramatic than flying out of the library like a runaway princess?  You think?”

I resumed scowling.  “Ugh, wasn’t like that.”  I looked away, from his teasing his eyes.

“Oh, but you’re not fighting the ‘princess’ part though, are you, Scholar?” Varric teased, nudging me with an elbow, as we walked across the lower courtyard, bypassing the make-shift surgeon’s quarters that lay at the bottom of the stairs we’d just descended from.  I scowled again, and refused to comment. 

After dealing me one more smirk, Varric relented and simply asked, “You still embarrassed then?”

“What d’ya think?  It was fuckin’ humiliating,” I retorted, beginning to get angry again, just from thinking about it.  I tried to calm myself before I started thinking unnecessarily mean thoughts about Hawke.  "Aw, fuck.  Now I wanna punch him."

Reminding myself that apologies had been made _and_ accepted, I took a calming breath.

Varric waved a hand.  “Well, I didn’t ask you here to make you relive unpleasant memories.  Or to make fun of you.  At least, not really.” 

We passed the entrance to the front gates, where a party was congregating; preparing to shove off on some journey or another.  A closer look revealed them to be scouts, and I felt a jealous pang hit me.  I wondered where they were going, even as I forced myself to focus back on Varric.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” he was saying, grabbing my complete attention immediately.  My eyes widened a little bit, and he grinned at me.  “I’m glad you two finally got to talking.  About damn time.  I was ready to knock both your heads together.  And, trust me, I told Hawke off for the library thing.”

He spoke easily, and the happiness in his voice was clear as day, as if the smile on his face wasn’t telling enough.  I could feel my ears heating up, so I looked away.

“Jeez, alright, dad.” I muttered to the ground, kicking a rock in my path.  Varric chuckled.

“Alright, alright, that’s all I’ll say.  Your business, I understand,” he said, patting me on the back.  “Besides, that’s not all I wanted to talk about.”

He grinned when I gave him a questioning look.  What more was there to talk about?  Varric didn’t let me ask.

“Come on.”  
~

Cole was ecstatic, and so was I.

We stood in the barn; the three of us.  Blackwall was there too, but he was actually further off to the side, doing his own stuff.  I don’t really remember when Cole joined us; the kid just kind of appeared, which was pretty normal for him anyways.  Either way, I wasn’t surprised.  Cole loved cute animals just as much as I did.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, kneeling down immediately.  I held out a hand, and the little fox stared at me.  I kept completely still, as did the other two, until the small creature’s curiosity seemed to outweigh its reservations.  It came closer to me, and sniffed my hand.

“Aw,” I breathed, still intent on not moving.  “Little baby.”

“He got in the way of a hunter’s arrow,” Varric was saying, watching as me and Cole attempted to commune with the little animal.  “He’ll be here long enough to heal, and then it’s right back out to the wild for him.”

I pouted at the fox, but accepted Varric’s words all the same.  I caught sight of the bandages on one of the little guy’s back legs, and pouted even more. 

“He doesn’t feel it anymore,” Cole whispered from my right.  “He likes you.”

“Hell yeah,” I whispered back, mentally fist pumping.

“I thought you’d want to look after him,” Varric said, seemingly oblivious of our quick exchange.  “Give you something to do, Scholar.”

I couldn’t help it, I twisted around to give the dwarf a weird look. 

“Huh?  But, I don’t know jack-shit ‘bout takin’ care of a fox.  Or any animal for that matter.”

Varric adopted a reassuring look, shaking his head at me. 

“It’s not hard, Scholar.  You’ll do a fine job,” he told me, with an easy grin.  “All you have to do is look after him, so quit looking like I asked you to do surgery on the poor thing.”

I scoffed, jumping slightly when I felt something cold bump up against my palm.  Varric had me so distracted, I forgot I had just left my arm hanging in the air in the general direction of the fox.  I turned back to see the little fox sniffing my hand some more, before giving it a little lick.  I nearly melted at the sight, almost forgetting all the reasons I had for rejecting the idea of me caring for a living creature.

“Dennet said he’s already starting to imitate the dogs, so he shouldn’t be too hard to handle,” Varric said, sounding seconds away from laughing. I wasn’t really paying attention, given the fact that the fox was now inspecting me with a curious air.

“You want him distracted.”

Cole’s voice brought me out of my cute animal induced daydreaming.  His voice was hard, and a little bit confused.  I turned to watch the kid pull himself out of the crouch he had joined me in when we’d first caught sight of the fox.  He was facing Varric, and his expression held something that was a little like betrayal.

“You can’t decide that,” the kid said, hands clutching his tunic.  “He’s going to want to know.”

“Relax, kid,” Varric replied softly, walking over with his hands held out in a calming gesture.  “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Cole?” I interjected, reaching out and tugging on the kid’s trousers to get his attention.  “You’re gonna scare the fox.  C’mere.”

Cole dropped back down, but carefully.  He didn’t look at the fox though; his eyes were on me.

“I can tell when Varric is schmoozing,” I told him, rolling my eyes.  “He’s not gonna hide anythin’ from me.  He’s just warming me up first.”  I looked back at the dwarf with a dry look.  “Right?”

He grinned back, albeit a tad sheepishly.  I don’t think he actually expected me to catch on, which is honestly kind of insulting.  I can be aloof and all that, but I knew him well enough to tell when he was trying to play me.  Sometimes.

Talking to Hawke the other night had me feeling better; better than I had in such a long time.  I still couldn’t believe how much I’d said, and how much of it I had never told another soul about.  I went into _details_ ; I hadn’t even told Amrita the worst of everything. 

That night left me feeling optimistic, which isn’t a word I’d typically (or ever) use to describe myself.  I could finally see the light; to a time when I wouldn’t feel like I had to hide twenty-four seven.  I thought it might be soon.  I thought it wouldn’t be long before I was ready to tell Hawke.  Maybe even Varric as well. 

So, that’s why I wasn’t getting all up in arms about Varric trying to pull something over me, even though I still didn’t know what that something was.  I figured he was trying to buy me off with cute animals, before telling me about something bad or whatever.  It was still nice of Cole to defend me like that, though.

I returned my gaze to Cole, grinning, and the kid nodded back at me, still staring all wide-eyed and crap.

“You’re…lighter than usual,” he began, getting that look in his eyes that told me he was about to go into spirit-zone on me.  I tensed and started to interrupt, but Cole’s next words were already coming out in a flood.

“Words never said, but always there, constantly turning.  Disrupting, churning, boiling inside; wanting to say something, but always losing the nerve.  Waking terrors, known like the back of your hand,” Cole was leaning in unconsciously, getting closer to me, and I was too speechless to even try and interrupt this time.  “They never go away, never will, but he makes them seem small…insignificant.  Telling him made the hurt go away, let your heart beat a little easier.”

Cole took a deep breath, and the barn was silent.  He came out of the daze he’d fallen into almost as soon as he stopped speaking, and looked at me with wide-eyes that were present once more.

“You can tell him,” the kid said.  “Varric too.”

I blinked at Cole, feeling my heart drop and dread creep in.  I tried telling myself that it wasn’t important; his words weren’t all that revealing.  Still, I didn’t look at Varric.  I turned back to the fox, who had dropped to the ground and was laying on his back.

Holding my hand out for him to sniff once again, I waited for the answering lick before petting the little creature.  I breathed in, deep.

“That was descriptive, Cole,” I said, carefully nonchalant.  “Have fun?”

“I don’t know what you mean.  Fun?” he murmured, almost to himself, sounding a bit in awe as well.  “It was _odd_.  I’ve never heard you so clearly before, in a way that wasn't a nightmare.  You were so _real_ this time.”

“Ah,” I muttered, kicking myself for even saying anything.  “Cool, bro.”

Cole paused.  “You want me to shut up now.  I will.”

I twitched.

“Well,” Varric intervened, in a pacifying sort of tone.  “that was…insightful.  So.  What do you say, Scholar?  Want to play fox mother for a few weeks?”

I shrugged, petting the fox’s soft fur lightly as it wiggled on the ground.  Then I thought for a moment.

“Hey, you sure this thing ain’t tame?  It’s getting awfully comfy with a couple o’ humans for a wild animal.  A wild animal that’s supposed to be skittish.”

Cole leaned in, and whispered, “People.  Not humans.”

“Huh?” I said back, before shaking myself.  I waved an impatient hand.  “Ah, semantics.  You know what I meant.”

“Maybe he just likes you,” Varric said, humor coloring his tone; I almost missed the pensive look in his eyes, meaning he was deep in thought.

“You remind him of his mother,” Cole said, sounding distant again.  I looked over at him, but relaxed when I saw he was focused on the fox and not me.

“What the fuck,” I said, slowly, deliberately putting pauses between my words.  “Is that supposed to mean.”  For one hot second, I couldn't tell if Cole was being real, or if he was making fun of me by using Varric's terminology of 'fox mother' from moments before.

Cole turned wide eyes on me, nodding contemplatively.  “Ah, it makes sense.”

“Well, fuckin’ explain, man – ow!”

I looked down, at the fox that had just nipped at my hand.  I pulled it away, and he darted for my hand again.  When I moved my hand around quickly, just like when I’d play with the kittens, the fox tried to get it.  I laughed.

“You’re a cat-like motherfucker, ya know that?” I told the little guy as he nipped at my hand again.

I never actually agreed to take care of the fox.  It sort of went unsaid.

~

I forgot to ask what Cole's whole spat was about.  I would learn later, that it had to do with Hawke's, and I guess Amrita's, up-coming trip to to the Western Approach, which they had just started preparing for, even though it was still a bit of a ways off.  

But, all that's not really relevant quite yet.

~

“Oh.” I said, with an odd mixture of surprise and awkwardness. 

My room had been empty when I left early that morning, to join Cassandra for some sparring practice.  When I came back two hours later, instead of finding an unmade, _empty_ bed; I found an occupied one.

Hawke was laid out on the bed, looking bored out of his mind.  He raised an arm to wave at me, while I just dumbly stood in the doorway for a moment too long.  When I realized this, I stepped in quickly, shutting the door behind me out of habit.

It had been a few days since Varric gave me custody of a foster fox, and even longer since I’d seen Hawke.  He’d been busy for the past week, having talks with the advisors or something like that.

“Took you long enough.  I've been waiting for _hours_ ,” Hawke was drawling at me, completely casual and completely exaggerating, as he rolled over onto his side in order to face me.  “What were you doing out so early anyways?”

"Shut up," I said back, automatically; trying really hard to not use scowling as a way to hide my awkwardness.  “What’re you doin’ in here?”

I walked further into the room, needing to change out of the sweaty clothing I was in.  My movements were so awkwardly jerky as I switched tunics, even though Hawke wasn’t watching me (I made sure to check).  He took his sweet time responding, giving me enough time to change and take a seat on the only chair, which sat in the corner of my room.  Far away from the bed.

Finally, Hawke hummed and sat up. 

“Waiting for you.  I heard you got a pet,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me before adopting a lofty tone. “I was just wondering if the news was true.  And whether the poor thing was still alive.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to shove down the awkwardness I was feeling.  For all my thoughts, the ones about talking to him and how well it went; I couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious at being in a room with Hawke.  Alone.  During the day.  While I was stone-cold sober.

“You got any idea why Varric’s baiting me with cute animals?”

Hawke raised his eyebrows.  “Really?  As in, _plural_ cute animals?”

I curled my lip, totally unamused, as Hawke let out a snort.

“Seems to me,” he began, starting to chuckle now.  “Varric was doing a little preemptive ass-kissing.  He thinks you’re going stir-crazy up here.  Probably worried you’re going to lose it.”

I made a face, staring at the wall like it would commiserate with me.  “Ugh.”

Hawke turned serious, catching my attention with one heaved sigh. 

“I admit my actions have played into his beliefs,” he said, making me want to cringe from the remorse in his voice.  “Varric’s not happy with me right now, I’ll have you know.  It’s all very weird.”

“You’re good,” I tried to reassure, awkwardly, as I rubbed at a spot under my eyebrow.  “I bet he just thinks you’re too dumb to breathe at the moment, but that’s nothin’ new.  Give him a friendship bracelet or somethin'.”

Hawke laughed, and swung his legs around and off the bed, so that he was sitting normally now.  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and turned his gaze on me.  I looked back, just from the instinct of having someone stare at you, and I accidentally made eye contact and couldn’t look away.

“How’s the head feel?”

I tried to smile.  “Great.”

Hawke squinted at me.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” 

My tone told him he was being dumb, that it was obvious I was a-okay, but he ignored it.

“You need to go see that…was it Solas?”

“Yeah.  Uh, I mean, no.”  I cringed.  “It’s Solas.  But, no.  I’m good.”

“Uh-huh,” Hawke responded, turning it around on me so that I felt like the stupid one.  He was utterly unconvinced, and my weak defense wasn’t helping.  He stood up and gestured for me to do the same.  “Come on.  You’re doing that thing where you rub the back of your head.  Means you’re lying.”

I scowled at him, and quickly dropped my hand, even though that only further credited his accusation.  “Actually, I think it just means I’m touching my hair.  Was fixin’ it.”

Hawke stood in front of me, and just waited in silence.  That’s all he had to do.  I lasted maybe a few seconds before I stood as well, allowing him to usher me out of the room.

~

“I’m avoiding this place,” I muttered, as we entered through the same door that the two of us had dramatically flown out of not too long ago.  “If I see any of those geeky fuckers gawkin’ at me, I’ma–”

“Oh, settle down,” Hawke said, bringing up a hand to ruffle the top of my hair.  I tensed, only a little and mostly because it reminded me of Kirkwall.  Hawke seemed to remember this old habit as well, because he nearly jerked his hand away.  Then, in a weird string of connections, my mind went to the kiss we shared one floor above us and if my skin were lighter, I could only imagine how red it would be.

We both entered Solas’ rotunda, and there the guy was.  He was sitting at his desk, writing, when he looked up at our entrance.  I could tell by his expression, even though it was as composed as ever, that he was a little surprised to see the two of us together.  It was the slight twitch of his eyebrows that did it.

“Ah, hello,” he greeted, looking between the both of us, before settling on me.

“Yo,” I said back, a bit blandly since I didn’t want to be there to begin with.  Hawke took over in the next moment, walking over confidently with one arm held out for Solas to shake. 

“Hello there,” he said, cheerfully.  “I didn’t leave the best impression last time.  Sorry about that.”  I scowled at him, just for being one of those people with social skills and what not.

“Happens to the best of us,” Solas replied, blinking at Hawke.  Again, he turned back to look at me.  “Fitz, I trust you are well?”

I wore a scowl, and was resisting the temptation to rub my temples, so he could probably tell I wasn’t all that good.  “Peachy-keen.  You?”

“He needs one of those draughts, the one you’ve been giving him for the headaches,” Hawke intervened, still wearing a light smile.

Solas nodded, and actually picked up a vial that was sat right on his desk and handed it to me.  I raised my eyebrows, but took it anyways.

“You haven’t been by recently,” Solas said, with a small amount of reproach.  “and Cole said you stopped taking the potions.  However, when I asked why, he refused to explain.”

He left his last statement open for me to respond to, but I was a bit stuck on the fact that Cole hadn’t right out told the guy that the potions weren’t consistent. 

"Huh," I said, as if I were just as baffled as him.  It might've come out too mockingly, but the headache was making me irritable.  I hadn't planned on actually hanging around people after my sparring session with Cassandra; I was going to attempt to sleep.  "Well, it's nice of you to have made 'em for me, but don't worry 'bout it anymore, 'kay?  I don't really need them."

Sometimes the potions worked, sometimes they didn’t; and then sometimes they worked with varying levels of strength.  It seemed like it was all at random, and I didn’t have the energy to bring up one more oddity about my health.  Not when I was trying to seem like I was getting better.

“But, hey.  Thanks, man,” I said, winding up for a goodbye.  “Stand up doctor you are.  You know that, yeah?  Just the right balance between persistent _and_ nagging.  I'll see ya.”

Solas pursed his lips, and Hawke made a small choking sound from beside me.  I didn’t look at him; I turned around and headed for the door.

“One moment, Fitz,” Solas stopped me, his voice still polite and everything.  I tried not to grimace.  “Are you free this evening?  I thought you might like to join me with this,” he gestured to the mural behind him.  “I presumed you must be adept with painting, since you have been so taken with stealing my supplies.”

My response was a sheepish grimace.  When he shot back with a stern look, I figured it best to just nod.

“Okay,” I said, drawing the word out a little.  I couldn’t really hide the dread in my voice, but whatever.

He let me leave this time and I finally relaxed once I was outside, even with Hawke following me.  I wasn’t lying when I said I’d really been avoiding the library.  The place was crawling with embarrassing flashbacks, complete with gawking librarians, screaming, and a dumbass kiss.  The bottom line being that it was mortifying beyond all belief and if I avoided the place, I avoided the memories (to some extent).  It was logic, I swear.

“It’s nice to see you’re still rude to everyone,” Hawke declared, dare I say fondly, as we walked down the ramparts together.  “I’m _so_ glad you didn’t outgrow that.”

“Fuck off.”

~

When I went by the library again, later that day, it was with no small amount of trepidation.

I sort of knew what Solas wanted; and it definitely wasn’t for me to help him with his beautiful mural.  I had brought back the brushes I’d stolen though, just in case he really was sore over the whole thing.

The man was sat at his desk, just as he had been before, only he was reading a book this time around.  He looked up as soon as I entered, and shut his tome with a sharp snap. 

“Perfect timing,” the elf said, standing up.  “I just finished the chapter I was on.”

“I planned it that way,” I replied instantly, though I wasn’t really focused on him.  I had wandered over to join him at his desk and I pretended to be absorbed with all the papers on its surface, rather than the thoughts in my head. 

“So, what’s up?  This gonna be long?  ‘Cuz I gotta meet up with someone pretty soon.”

“Worry not,” Solas said, dryly.  “I will not take up much of your precious time.”  He walked around his desk and gestured for me to follow him.  Assuming we were going someplace more private, I followed without protest. 

As we always did when testing my peculiarities, Solas led me up to his private quarters and placed wards around the door to keep us safe.  Or, rather to keep _me_ safe.  A tiny bit of guilt found its way into my mind, as I reflected on the fact that Solas didn’t have to do any of this for me.  However, that guilt was easy to suppress since I knew the guy was genuinely interested in my weirdness, probably from a scholarly standpoint as well as a personal one.  He definitely had more private reasons for helping me out; it was just a sense I got when I was around him.  I mean, the guy liked magic and dreaming in the Fade more than probably anything else on earth.  And those were the only two things I knew Solas enjoyed, outside of painting I guess.  All I’m saying is that it just made sense that he’d want to study some idiot who seemed to naturally shake magic off like it was nothing.

We got down to business immediately.  Solas didn’t exactly beat around the bush with me, which I guess kind of shows how impatient he was with my negligence.

“The potions are not working,” he all but stated, standing in the middle of the room and facing me with his hands held behind his back. 

I groaned, and flopped down onto the first thing I saw; the old rickety chair that was sat next to the small desk in the corner of his room.  I slouched down on it, resting my head on the palm of my hand, just barely holding my head up from the top of Solas’ desk.

“Ugh.”  I really should’ve known he’d figure it out.  “Like, not exactly?  It’s, uh, temperamental.”

“How so?”

I made a face at him, and waved my free hand around for emphasis.  “Sometimes they work.  Just depends on whether my body is feelin’ it or not.”

Solas brought a hand up to cup his chin, his expression quickly delving into thoughtful.  Didn’t stop the slight annoyance that crept onto his face, however.

“And you didn’t think to tell me this, why?” he said back, rather severely.  “I know how you can be, but you needn’t waste valuable resources due to your own indifference.”

I felt my jaw go a bit slack for a moment, before I set it into a scowl.  He had a point, even if I didn’t want to give it to him.

“Yeah, okay.  My bad,” I grumbled, looking at him coolly.  “Just knew you’d get all ‘we must find out why’ on me.”

Solas looked at me then, coming out of his thoughts to pin me with an intense gaze. 

“You do not wish to solve this?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“It’s just pain.  And, I swear, the headaches aren't as frequent.  Purely occasional, yeah?” I said, not really planning on answering his question.  I went on, just to further defend myself.  “Besides, it’s, like, totally bearable.  I’m not passing out anymore, so I figured it was a trade-off.”

Solas frowned.  “Yes…I had noticed that as well.” 

I switched positions, leaning back in the chair with a stretch.  I looked over at the other elf and could tell he was deep in thought again, so I kept quiet.

“It could very well be that your body has acclimated to the magic around you,” he finally said.  “Would you mind if I ran some tests?”

Solas didn’t throw fire at me this time (which probably would’ve done something to me by that point, so I was grateful), but he did send some small shocks at me which honestly felt like those small static shocks you get in the winter from rather than the ‘fork in an outlet’ shock that I believe Solas was going for.  I told him that, though I used a different analogy, of course.

“You’re more susceptible to effect,” he mused, after conducting various tests on me.  “It’s so peculiar.  I have been reading more on magical resistances and, I must say, your circumstances only seem to grow more unusual.”

“Oh, joy,” I let out accidentally, before straightening up; physically and mentally.

“Uh, I mean…is it really that weird though?  So, like, hear me out, man.  Thedas is a big place, right?” I asked, spreading my hands out on either side of me as if to demonstrate.  “There’s bound to be tons of stuff that don’t make sense.  Lots of things, people, goin’ unnoticed and all that.  I bet you I’m not the only one like this.”

It was bullshit, and I think Solas knew that, because he didn’t even nod along to my words.  Instead, he narrowed his eyes in my direction.

“I don’t wish to…pry unnecessarily into anything personal,” he began, after a moment’s hesitation.  “But, are you certain you can’t confide in me the place from which you hail?”

I stared, and blinked.

“Where you were born?” he insisted, thinking I didn’t understand him the first time.

“Uh,” my mind froze, caught off guard by the question.  I didn’t think he would be an easy man to lie to, kind of like Bull.  “Far from here.  Not on any maps, so I dunno what to tell ya.”

“A name then?  Anything?” he requested, sounding completely patient and calm. 

I thought, wildly, of what to say.  In the past, I found that most people didn’t ask for details; you say you’re from a small town in the north and they nod and move on with their lives.  I decided to wing it in the end.  I figured, what the hell, there wasn’t much point in dodging the question forever.  That’s only suspicious.  Besides, it’s not like I thought he was going to hear the name of my home and have an ‘a-ha’ moment where he would then accuse me of being an alien.  I never worried about that, not even when I was evading questions like this back in Kirkwall, in those early days.

This was just the first time I felt stable enough to say anything out loud.

“Brooklyn,” I said, with forced ease, adrenaline rushing through me as I uttered that one simple word.  Watching the man before me, I shrugged my shoulders and went on.  “Really small town.  Middle of nowhere.  I can’t even remember what the closest city was.”

Solas was still looking at me all bland-like.  I couldn’t tell if he bought that or not, so it was a pretty tense moment as he just kept looking at me without answering.

“Hmm,” was all his only response and I regretted speaking immediately and completely.  I decided to play it up anyways.

“See?  Told ya you wouldn’t know it,” I said, with a laugh.  “It don’t matter, okay?”

Solas could tell I didn’t want to talk anymore, and he respected that.

He let me leave, with just a quiet reassurance that he would see if he could fix my potion’s potency levels and I thanked him.

It was nice of him to be so interested, even if I was kind of over the whole thing.  I blame my die-hard habit of conveniently putting unwanted thoughts out of my head, but it also had to do with the fact that I wanted to distance myself from Solas’ studies, and his possible inquiries.  Unlike Amrita, I didn’t really want to tell him the truth about me; even if he was my best bet at getting home and at figuring out what the hell was up with me.

I told myself it was because I didn’t trust Solas, and while that was true, it wasn’t the full truth. 

I didn’t want to go home.  I didn’t want anyone looking for a way to get back to my world; for me or for any other reason (which was honestly a terrifying thought in itself).  When Hawke confronted me, and then when we had our talk in the dungeons, I found myself thinking, and believing, some pretty big shit.  Like, the reality of my wants and desires; that kind of shit.

Constantly thinking about home was tiring as fuck, and I knew it wasn’t healthy, letting it keep me tied up (or, in a way, caged).  Sadly, I was also cynical enough to reason that I seemed fated to die in Thedas anyways, so why fight it?  I was thinking: if my body was failing me, in some weird and fucked up way, it made sense that it was Thedas doing it.  But, that was just my paranoia playing me.  I wasn’t dying.  Cole almost had me convinced on it too, as he had made it a point to remind me, regularly, that it just felt like I was dying.  Even still, I couldn’t help but doubt him sometimes, just a bit.  Paranoia and anxiety are wonderful things to have, but I was slowly coming to a point where I refused to let them control me.  Slowly.

I wanted to live, of course, and I wanted to live in Thedas.  You know, have fun and explore places; all that jazz that makes life worth living and shit.  However, Skyhold didn’t really cut it.  I didn’t want to spend my life locked up in a goddamn fortress for the rest of my days.  Hence my insistence on the improvement of my health, despite my inner (ie self-destructive in nature) thoughts.  Solas agreed that I seemed to be getting better, and I even had Cole telling me I was okay.  So, it was fair to say that I was getting back on track with the whole ‘getting my shit together’ thing.  Fuck, I could talk to Hawke.  I could hang out with him and not itch to hide.  I was already miles away from how I was like before we had it out, and that progress all happened within a two week period, beginning after my short self-pity session.

At the time, I thought it would be fun to go out again; maybe get back into scouting.  Maybe join Amrita on one of her missions.  I felt like I had free reign, so why limit myself to scouting?  Besides, I figured I was around Amrita and her friends long enough to consider quite a few of them my own friends as well.  And this was a sharp contrast to not too long ago, back when I could really only count two of them; Sera and Varric respectfully.  Varric didn’t even really count either; he was more like obligated to be my friend at that point, like a family member you had to love even though they frustrated you more than life itself. 

I was sort of in Amrita’s inner circle, kind of.  I guess.  I mean, I knew I wasn’t as skilled as the others (in fighting, politics, influence, and other shit like that), but I was loyal and I wanted to see this whole thing through with them.  Especially since everything was getting more and more serious.  I mean, shit, it’d always been serious, but it just kept getting more so.  It got even worse ever since Amrita returned from saving Orlais’ ruler from certain death.  I was kind of late to the realization game, but this Inquisition thing was starting to feel big to me.  Like monumental-big, you know?  Seemed like one of those epic fantasy stories, like The Lord of the Rings or some shit like that, and I wanted to be a part of it.  For the people, and the adventure.  I liked it better than constantly brooding every fucking day, over something as stupid as my past; my history _and_ my failures.  Both of which I couldn’t change, even if it had taken me forever to own up to it.

I just had to keep getting better.  Start trying a little harder.  Maybe get ready for something new.  Hell, I’m not sure what I was thinking, but I know I just wanted to live a little.  Anything had to be better than keeping myself stuck on the same conflict my mind had been going through since being reunited with Hawke.  I guess I just thought that if I did a little more living, the open kind where you actually let people know you, maybe I’d learn how to let Hawke in.  It’d just be nice to get to a point where love didn’t feel like a death sentence.  You know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so since this fitz/hawke ship is finally going somewhere, let's settle on a ship name eh? if you got any ideas or opinions, hit me up in the comments! so far we got 1 vote for 'Hawtz' !
> 
> thanks for reading, love love love you guys!


	46. Act II: Taking the Steps to Getting Back on Track

I spun on my heels, a short sword in my dominant hand as I wielded my usual short dagger in the other, and quickly dodged what would have been a brutal fucking hit from Cassandra’s dulled blade.  If it says anything about our differences in strength; she was allowing me to use an actual dagger rather than a practice one like she was using.  I mean, my short sword was dulled, so technically I was still using a practice weapon against her.  Neither of us had armor on, and the seeker wasn’t at all worried about me accidentally stabbing her.  I bet she would’ve been a little bit nervous if I had a real fucking sword in my hands.  Yeah, right, probably not.

I swung in, only to immediately swing back out when Cassandra brought up her shield right where my sword would have landed.  If I hadn’t moved in time, I would’ve bashed up my wrist for good, so it goes without saying that I was relieved, and a little impressed, with my own dexterity.  I didn’t even care that Cassandra had let out a snort at my awkward, ballerina-esque maneuvering.

She ended the fight not even a minute later, when she smacked the flat side of her dulled blade against my exposed right side.  Her hit was pretty solid, and it might have winded me a bit.

“Dead,” she said, not unkindly.  “That hit would have disemboweled you if I hadn’t pulled back.”

“Fuckin’ really?” I panted, glad for the break so that I could drop my weapons and lean over to catch some air.  “In a real fight I woulda had armor on, so…” I shrugged, straightening up in a stretch, and gave the seeker a cheeky grin.

She looked back, completely indifferent, and didn’t respond.  She knew what she was talking about, of course, and she knew I was just taking the piss.  Cassandra knew when not to engage me in verbal battles; it would just end with me annoying the fuck out of her.

“Hey, do you think you could talk to Amrita for me?” I asked, maybe a bit suddenly, as I bent over again to pick up my unceremoniously discarded weapons.  I didn’t immediately head for the armory, instead I peered at Cassandra with an expression that was as serious and solemn as I could muster.  It immediately grabbed her attention.

“Why?” she asked, suspiciously.  I held up a hand to my heart when she narrowed her eyes at me, momentarily mucking up my somber façade.  Giving it up, I pouted at her.

“What’s with the face?” I asked back, hurt.  Her trademark frown only deepened.

“You are up to something,” she said, leaning against the sword she had stuck into the ground.  “You are close with the Inquisitor, so why would you need _me_ to talk with her?”

“Oh, come on.  You’re actin’ like I’ma ask somethin’ sketchy,” I exclaimed, returning my dagger to its place on my belt and holding the longer weapon at my side as I sent an appealing look Cassandra’s way; complete with shameless puppy-dog eyes.

“Ugh,” the seeker let out, before finally inclining her head.  “And what would you have me say to her then?”

I brightened up immediately.  “Okay, so.  Next time you see her, d’ya think you could slip in a ‘yo, that Fitz is doin’ pretty good lately.  Totally rockin’ the fighting shit’, ya know?  And then maybe end with a recommendation to put me back in the field?” I took a quick breath, before adding, “Like, scouting or somethin’?”

Cassandra blinked at the rapid succession of words issuing from my mouth, and I’ll admit I might’ve said it all a bit fast.  And eagerly.  But, the considering look on her face told me she caught it all.

“Hm…I suppose I could do that,” she said, musingly, before turning rather stern eyes on me.  “So long as Solas agrees that your health is up to par.”

Giving a little fist pump, I grinned at the woman.  “He totally agrees.  I mean, yeah, talk to him if you wanna, but he checked me out a few days ago and told me I was good to go!”

Cassandra nodded shortly, still trying to look stern even though I could see the slight uptick on the left side of her mouth.

“I will speak with Solas.  And then the Inquisitor,” she promised, and I almost cheered.

“Sick,” I said, bobbing my head excitedly.  “So, when d’ya think–”

I cut myself off when I noticed Cassandra’s face go red and judging from the way her eyes were looking past me, I had a feeling she’d seen something weird.  I whirled around, just to see Hawke sauntering our way.  So, technically still weird, but I didn’t get why Cassandra went beet red at the sight of him.  When Hawke saw me looking, he waved.

I forced myself to swallow the grimace that wanted to take over my features. 

Hawke was supposed to leave, for some business or another on that day, and I had been avoiding thinking about it.  He was only going to be gone for a little bit, and supposedly the trip was just going to be purely for information gathering or something.  I didn’t know at the time, or I just didn’t put it together; but this trip was like a prelude to Adamant.  But, like I’ve said before, that comes later.

“The Champion,” Cassandra said, her voice a teeny bit breathy.  She seemed to come to her senses in the next moment, because she suddenly looked at me with a stricken look.  I was mostly just taken off guard by the open expression on the seeker’s face.  I’d never seen her show such strong emotion that wasn’t anger or annoyance.  Or disgust.  “I should go…give the two of you…privacy.”

I made a face, watching her turn right around and walk towards the armory.  If she was less composed, I swear she would’ve ran.

“She was in a rush,” Hawke said in lieu of greeting, finally coming to stand beside me. 

“Yeah,” I drawled, rolling my eyes.  “She probably thought you were gonna start another scene with me.  Ya know, like announce yourself pregnant to the whole yard.  Keep all that drama shtick up and goin’.” 

I made sure to say it all dryly, and a small amount of accusation filtered into my voice unintentionally.  Hawke rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin as he replied.

“Well, that’s silly,” he laughed.  “I would have waited until noon, when these grounds are teeming with gossipmongers.  The only ones around to hear us are the birds, and I daresay they would not be very interested in any conversation of ours.”

“Why’re you up so early anyways?” I asked, ignoring the squinty-eyed look he directed at a bird hanging out on a roof a little ways away from us.  “It’s like dawn.”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit later than that, Fitz,” he told me, giving me an ‘are you serious?’ look.  I shrugged, and saw Hawke glance at the sword I was holding. 

“Ah, right,” he said, as if he just had an epiphany.  As if he didn’t know immediately that I was practicing sword work when he first saw me; as I stood in the training grounds, sweating, right next to a row of practice dummies.  I gave him a dull look as he went on.  “You’ve been sparring with the Seeker as of late.  Did you know that Varric thinks you’re insane?”

He didn’t give me a chance to respond to that, because he went right on to amusedly ask, “Has she been kicking your ass?”

“Yes,” I said, hissing the word a bit as I scowled at the man.  “I’m gettin’ better though.  I can use swords now.”

I gestured to the weapon in my hand and Hawke’s grin grew wider.

“Well, you’re not too tired, are you?” he asked, a glint in his eyes.  I squinted at him and shifted feet as I shook my head.  “Great!  How about we spar for a bit?  Just like old times?”

“I thought you had to leave…today,” I said, hesitantly, tightening my grip on my sword.

“Ah, I still have time,” he said, waving a lofty hand, and already heading over to the armory for some practice blades.  “What do you say?”

I stared, for a moment, and tried to will away the nervousness flooding me. 

I shrugged, face lapsing into an indifferent expression. 

“Sure, whatever.”

I brought my dagger back out, and rolled my shoulders a few times as I waited for Hawke to return.  It wasn’t long before he was back holding two long daggers, twirling them around in his hands as he got used to the grip.  I brought my weapons up, holding them at the ready when Hawke drew close enough.  Rather than just beginning the fight, the jerk began circling me. 

“Seriously?” I huffed, as I turned to keep track of him.  “Just fight me, why you doin’ this dancin’ shit?”

I had barely even finished speaking when Hawke decided to strike, and then it was all a flurry of blocks and dodges.  He tried to pull his favorite trick early on; that trick where he would kick my feet out from under me in one swoop.  I avoided it neatly, and maybe a bit smugly, though I didn’t have to opportunity to gloat.  Hawke had me on the defense for a while, before I met both of his blades with mine and pushed him away from me.  He stumbled back, and many years ago I would have stopped right there and started cheering, but instead I just went about throwing some attacks of my own.

Hawke had me at the disadvantage from the start.  He was in full armor, ready to head out on his journey, and he probably had twenty pounds more muscle than I did overall.  He also wasn’t in the habit of going easy on me, because he was an asshole like that, so I wasn’t all that surprised when he won.

He hit my left wrist at just the right spot with the hilt of his dagger, and my own dagger fell from my hand automatically as my grip loosened from the shock.  Then, Hawke held his other dagger at my throat and I yielded, feeling only slightly sulky.

Hawke grinned at me as we both let our weapons drop to our side.  I scowled, but that was just a habit; there was no real anger.

“Nicely done,” he praised me, even sounding impressed.  I felt my ears heat up, so I dipped down to retrieve my dagger rather than look at him.  I tried to hurriedly snap it back onto my belt, but Hawke motioned to it.  I knew he’d recognize it, probably had before we even started fighting.

“Is that the one I gave you?” he asked, and I heard hesitation in his tone, along with something else that went deeper. 

I stretched, over exaggerating my movements just so it gave me something else to do rather than look at him.  “Yeah…it, uh, it’s a good weapon.”

“I’d wager the Inquisition has better, by far,” he told me, and he sounded so fond and pleased that I wanted to groan.  “Though, I am touched to see you have not parted with that old thing.”

I looked down at the dagger, and ran my fingers over the discolored hilt.  It was aged, that’s for sure.  The purple hilt used to be this royally dark color, but use and age had worn it down to a deeply grayed version of its old color. 

“Yeah…well, whatever,” I said, shrugging.  I began walking over to the armory, and Hawke joined me, his gait casual and completely carefree.  We returned our weapons, and then, knowing Hawke had to go at some point, I wandered with him to the front gates, where his party was currently congregating.  I saw the warden we’d met at Crestwood, talking with some soldiers, but I didn’t go close enough to hear what they were discussing.  Hawke rested a hand on my shoulder, causing me to turn my attention to him instead of the preparing troop of soldiers.

“It will be a quick trip,” he told me, as if reading into the emotions I wasn’t showing.  I curled my lips, even as I felt my face heat up.  “Maybe I’ll find you another dagger.  How about a pink one this time?”

I scowled at him.  “Fuck off.  Just, like, don’t die.  Or whatever.”

He smiled at me, eyes crinkling up with the genuineness of it.  When he brought up a hand to ruffle my hair, neither of us tensed or jerked back this time.  I felt my scowl lessen, unintentional though it was.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, before changing speed and roughly messing up my hair; totally catching me off guard.  I cursed him, and dodged, attempting to fix it before it resembled a rat’s nest.  Hawke just laughed, and started walking over to his party. 

“I’ll see you soon.  Stay out of trouble,” he called, walking backwards so that he could still face me as he spoke.  He punctured his words in order to deliver a pointed finger in my direction.  “And don’t drink so much.”

I just scowled, and flipped him off, even though it only made him chuckle. 

I remained there until they left; just standing with my arms crossed, probably wearing a sour look on my face, as I watched him go.  I didn’t move on until I could no longer see Hawke’s back, and then I headed for the stables.

I had a fox to take care of, and suddenly, I was glad for the intentional distraction Varric had all but forced onto me. 

~

After making sure my fox was doing okay, I headed over to the main hall to see if there was still food laid out on the banquet tables.  It was still decently early, so I figured I’d be able to find something while also having a quiet place to sit and eat without feeling the stares of nobles and whatnot.

As predicted, the main hall was sparsely populated and there was still plenty of food for me to pick from.  I made up a plate and sat myself down at the only table that was completely empty.  None of my friends were up yet, except for Cassandra, but she was nowhere in sight at the moment (and, she usually avoided the main hall because of the nobles that usually decorated it.  Like me, she wasn’t all that fond of those types).

I was happy to be alone though.  I wasn’t exactly feeling all that cheery, not even after playing with a rather sleepy fox.  So, I knew it was probably best if I laid low rather than bug people with my mood.  That’s what I was planning to do too, probably for the rest of the day as well, but then Dorian came out of nowhere and sat himself down at the table next to me.

“Ah,” he greeted me with a wrinkled nose and a frown, before scooting a bit farther away from me.  “What did you do?  Sleep in the barn last night?  Fall into a tub of manure perhaps?”

I just gave him a look, and maybe a small scowl as well.  Whatever expression I had on, it caused Dorian to pause and raise his eyebrows.

“Well, we look quite sullen this morning,” he commented, idly picking up a piece of fruit from a basket in front of us and inspecting it.  “I assume you bid farewell to your doting lover?”

I definitely scowled that time.  “Shut up.”

“Oh, I see,” he mused with a sage nod of the head.  “You know, I’m sure a nice, _long_ , bath would make you feel much better.  Don’t you think?”  He said the words appealingly, and teasingly, but all I did was roll my eyes and rest my elbows on the table.

“Or,” I began to say, in a bored drawl.  “I can sit here in peace and quiet, while you leave me alone.”

“My, we certainly _are_ sullen,” Dorian said with fake surprise.  “It’s been more than a minute and you haven’t cursed once.”

When I didn’t answer, Dorian finally sighed and bit into his fruit.  I thought it meant he would leave me alone after that, but no such luck. 

“Oh, do cheer up, my dear man,” he said, packing in a bright lilt to his voice; one that bordered on sarcasm in my opinion.  “Go find Sera, put more snails in Solas’ bedcovers.  Whatever it is you two love to amuse yourselves with.”

“They were slugs, and maybe I’ll put them in _your_ bedcovers.  If you don’t shut the hell up.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Dorian replied, completely unfazed by my threat.  He was quiet for a time, eating his fruit while I moved food around on my plate.  When I was almost ready to get out of there, Dorian opened his mouth once again.

“No appetite either?” he said, all nonchalant.  His eyes were on my plate, which I will admit was mostly untouched, before he finally brought a judgey-look back up to my face.  I scowled at him, and then scrambled to catch an apple that he decided to throw my way with no warning whatsoever.  I almost threw it back out of spite. 

“You might as well eat,” he told me, in a tone that implied he thought himself deserving of gratitude.  “How else will you find the energy to spar with our lovely Seeker?”

I looked at the apple, and I didn’t miss the underlying intent of Dorian’s words.  He was right, but even though I had come to the main hall for food in the first place, I found that I had trouble finding the hunger that I knew I should have been feeling.  I resolved to eat the apple later on in the day, so I kept it in my hands, occasionally throwing it up and down like a baseball as I sat there.  I don’t know why I didn’t leave then, but something kept me there, sitting at a table with Dorian while the rest of Skyhold woke up around us.  Maybe I didn’t want to be alone.  I don’t really know.

“Ah, look at the two of us,” Dorian said, after a few quiet minutes of watching people enter the hall.  When I looked over, he wasn’t even looking at me.  His eyes ran over the hall, which now had a decent amount of Skyhold’s inhabitants settling in for breakfast; many of them were of the noble kind.  I followed his gaze, noting how many heads turned away when my eyes would land on them. 

“The evil Magister from Tevinter and the Champion stealing elven-harlot,” Dorian went on, tone dry and incredibly sardonic.  He tilted his head my way, just enough so I could see the half smirk that he wore.  “I daresay we say we make a rather gossip-worthy sight.”

I scowled at the room at large, and noticed even more heads turn away from us.  “Fuck ‘em.”

Dorian chuckled, before turning oddly serious.  He caught my eye, and made it a point to hold the contact as he spoke his next words.

“Does it not bother you what they might be saying right this very moment?”

“Well, yeah.  Sure, it does,” I mumbled, an unsaid ‘duh’ ending my sentence, before talking at a more reasonable volume.  “They don’t know shit, though, so it don’t really matter _what_ they say.  It’s when they say it near enough for me to hear that it pisses me the fuck off.  But, yo, at the end of the day?  They don’t fuckin’ exist, not really.  Ya get me?”

Dorian seemed to think over my words.  “I think I may know what you mean by that.”

I shrugged, not immediately caring if he knew what I meant or not.  He had made a good point earlier, when he compared us.  It was in hushed whispered, but most people were quick to vilify Dorian, because there’s no such thing as a good Vint magister, is there?  This thought made me pause, for I had been ready to dismiss Dorian without really reading into what he was trying to say to me.  I turned, and faced him.  He met my gaze with the raise of one immaculately shaped eyebrow.

“Uh…you good, man?” I asked, awkwardly; wondering if I had to ask the guy if people were bullying him.  Dorian’s expression turned a bit flat and he blinked at me, almost in surprise, before letting out a sudden huff of laughter.  I tried not to scowl at the man, even though he was kind of laughing at me.

“Oh, my dear friend,” he said, composing himself with a waved hand, as if that wave would dispel whatever notion I had been trying to imply.  “I am fine.  I am used to being an oddity, amongst kinsmen and Southerners alike.”

I could feel my expression turn a bit deadpan, but I didn’t try to speak, because Dorian kept going.

“I was going to tell _you_ not to pay them any mind,” he said, gesturing to the people surrounding us.  “when they speak of you and your Champion.  Unless, of course, you’d rather fight every single one of them.  As your expression seems to suggest.”

I actually grinned.  “That would be tempting, and deeply satisfying.  But, ya know, ‘Rita would probably kill me.”

“Hmm, there is that,” he said, lips twitching, most likely at the mental image.  “Nevertheless, I would bet a sovereign, at least, that your Champion would defend you from all the slander done to your name.  If you would let him.”

I made a face at the meaningful look Dorian sent me, and scoffed.  “Ugh, just say it.  What the fuck you aimin’ at?”

“Nothing!” Dorian told me, looking mockingly aghast.  “So defensive.  I would ask if you are usually so aggressive when one brings up your paramours, but I have heard that Hawke is your first.”

“Dude,” I started, shifting in my seat.  “I swear, I’ma get Sera to–”

“Please,” Dorian interrupted, rolling his eyes at me.  “you may calm down.  I am not mocking you.”

I deflated, and slouched over the table once more, before saying, “Why’d you even bring it up then?”

Dorian looked me over, rather imperiously, and flat-out said, “Because you are awfully aloof when you have a mind to it, and I would hate to see another spectacle like the one that occurred between you and Hawke a fortnight ago.  And by hate, I mean relish in the thought of seeing you contemplate drastic measures, just to get away from the poor man.  Such as, let’s say, jumping off a two story balcony.”

Oddly enough, Dorian’s last sentence brought out a surprised laugh as I could not help but remember that, back during the library fiasco, I really had been wondering if I could jump the railing of the rotunda.  Maybe land on Solas’ desk, or something, just to put some distance in between me and Hawke.  I also marveled, privately, at the fact that I did not so much mind when Dorian brought up the library incident.  While the event was still cringe-worthy, I didn’t exactly feel like yelling when I recalled it.   

“Thanks,” I replied, dryly.  “I didn’t really need the reminder, though.”

Dorian shrugged one shoulder, still keeping that imperious look on his face.  “If you say so.  Also, just so you know, Varric will undoubtedly lock the two of you in a room together if you have another spat like that.  He told me himself.”

“Yeah, I bet,” I muttered, standing from the table. 

“Oh, and Fitz?” Dorian spoke once more, making me pause in my movements.  I stood awkwardly, one leg poised to walk away.  Dorian looked up at me, features set in another serious expression.  “I would not usually presume to say this, but I think you may need to hear this.”

“It’s a grand thing, to have someone who cares for you so deeply,” he told me, sincerely and not at all sarcastic.  “I would not forsake that, if I were you.  No matter what problems you still cling to, it might be worth it to work past them.  It is obvious that your Champion does not mind the faults you believe yourself to possess.”

I went through many thoughts after Dorian said that.  First, I was mostly just shocked that he even said such a thing.  It was oddly personal, and Dorian didn’t normally speak out on other’s private matters; you know, to their faces like that.  So, I feel like I had the right to stand there a little dumbstruck. 

Second, I wanted to ask him what the hell he knew about it.  He didn’t know anything outside of whatever he had heard in the library on that day a few weeks before.  He didn’t know anything; he didn’t know about all the lies and the problems I caused, so I honestly didn’t think he should’ve been talking.  I won’t say I didn’t appreciate the gesture, it was nice of him, but it was all much more complicated that he was making it out to be.  I mean, yeah, it was probably just _me_ making it all complicated, but fuck. 

Lastly, I wanted to ask him how to get over all the problems I ‘cling to’.  He was basically telling me to get over myself, and just let Hawke in, as if that were so easy to do.  I spent a good portion of my life in self-imposed exile just to avoid the emotional conflict; like hell I could just say, ‘sick, bro, I’ll just throw my debilitating sense of self-worth out the window, nice’. 

I was already trying to do that; I was trying to make things better between me and Hawke, and I guess I wasn’t really failing.  But, it still didn’t mean that it was right.

I shook my head, and didn’t really have an answer for Dorian.  So, I just said goodbye.

“I’m gonna go.  See ya, Vint-face.”

“Do make sure you bathe, would you?  Unawashed chic is not in right now, and I would hate to see you ridiculed,” the man called out, light and mocking once again, as I walked away.  I flipped him off with looking back, and was rewarded with just a simple laugh as I left.

Dorian had a weird way of comforting me, and a rather round-about one as well, but I suppose it kind of helped; even if I was still troubled over the idea of being a part of Hawke’s life again.  In any case, I left the main hall not quite feeling like a sulking teenager anymore, which is always a great thing.  But still, it wasn’t like I could just forget about the sadness I felt as I watched Hawke leave.  It made me feel so weird, and vulnerable, which is just so fucked, you know? 

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that I didn’t deserve Hawke.  Not when you consider how utterly inept I was at showing emotion.  He deserved someone who could say they care, out right, and not just when they were drunk or some shit.  Hell, I still couldn’t say ‘I love you’ to the guy, couldn’t even let myself think it back then, if I’m being totally honest.  So, it kind of sucked when he would act all fond and shit while I’m over here like some dumb slab of stone who only knows how to scowl. 

I put it out of my mind, for those two weeks that Hawke was gone.  I figured I’d do what I did best and figure it out later.

~

“Ah!”

I wiggled my fingers, which were currently stuck in the mouth of a playfully growling fox. 

“Yeah, you got me,” I said, pushing the thing with my free hand.  He flopped onto his side, and my fingers came free, rather painfully, but I just wiped them on the hay we were currently laying on and continued playing.

I spent most of my time playing with the fox.  On most nights, I would venture into the stables, sometimes bringing my notebook, and other times a bottle of wine.  Sometimes both.  I was trying to do what Hawke said, the whole limiting my alcohol intake thing, and I guess I did pretty well, but there was only so much I could handle before I needed something stronger than water to help me out.  Hate to say it, but any form of alcohol took on the role of Advil; which I found myself desperately wishing for in each passing day.  That makes me seem like a drunkard.  I’m not.  I swear.

Anyways, those nights were nice.  Just me, a roaring fire, with a snoozing fox by my side, and sometimes an adventurous kitten or two.  Outside of that, my days were mostly just filled with training.  I would also occasionally hit up the library, to sneak out a book or two (I only went on the second floor when I knew it was empty – I still wasn’t not showing my face around there), but I only did that once or twice, as I recall it.  Reading wasn’t much fun anymore, though I still tried to keep at it.  However, all I really got was worsening head pains.  And, an overwhelming realization of the fact that my ability to focus seemed to drain quickly in a way that was extremely frustrating.  It was different when I was moving around, hitting things and shit, which is probably why I got super into exercising again.  It took my mind off of things better than books.

And, you know what, it was a damn good thing I took up physical training again, because shit was about to get _real_.  Amrita was busy with planning, like every day, and the others seemed to be getting ready for something big.  While Hawke was away, I saw Bull practicing more and more with his men, and I even caught Varric going through some targets with Bianca one afternoon.  I knew Amrita would tell me about it sooner or later; that is, if they ever let her out of the War Room.  I wasn’t too concerned; the hype was rather addicting.  I found myself feeling even more impatient to get out of Skyhold; more than ever before.

Funnily enough, I found out about Adamant from Bull of all people. 

I stopped by to chat with the guy one evening, after watching him yell at his guys for two hours straight.  When I asked him what they were training so hard for, secretly hoping that there was a Chargers mission I could get in on, he gave me a look like I was stupid.

“Seriously, kid?” he had asked, tone light but also a bit disbelieving.  I rolled my eyes and rather tetchily told him to get on with it, after reminding him about my horrible attention span and memory, of course. 

“Once Hawke gets back, we’re going to the Western Approach.  Gonna fuck up that Seeker fortress over there,” he informed me, grinning widely, most likely at the thought of battle.  “You really don’t remember?  Missing Grey Wardens, and all that shit?”

I wracked my brain, but that just made the ever persistent headache hurt even worse, so I gave up.

“Nope,” I had simply replied, popping the ‘p’ with an air of indifference and a slight shrug of my shoulders.  I went on to ask what I truly cared about, “Is Hawke goin’?”

Bull squinted his eye down at me, and seemed to hesitate.  I knew he was probably weighing the consequences of telling me, or maybe he was thinking about why I wanted to know, though I didn’t think that was the case.  He had called me out on my feelings for Hawke before I had even really thought about them.  The qunari ended up telling me, despite the pause that seemed to last forever.

“’Course he is.  Used to be the only reason he was even here, kid.”

I didn’t have anything to say after that, though I didn’t really get the chance either.  Next thing I knew, I had Krem throwing a practice sword at me, telling me to get working if I was going to loiter the training grounds like a dumb gawker.

So, I probably don’t have to say this, but I decided then and there that I was going to go to Adamant with everybody.  Hawke included.

As I laid on the hay-covered ground of the barn, idly thinking up a name for my vicious fennec fox, I couldn’t stop thoughts of Adamant, and Hawke, from wandering into my mind.

I knew it as a definite that Hawke would object, so I also knew I’d have to be sneaky about getting in on this mission.  I figured my best route was to first convince Amrita into approving my coming, preferably before Hawke got back.  And before Varric could find out what I was up to.  I already had Cassandra vouching for me, even if she wasn’t aware that I wanted in on the Adamant thing, but I didn’t think it mattered much.  A place was a place, was a place.  Or however that saying goes.  Maybe I should’ve used the word ‘battle’ instead.  Whatever.

When my still unnamed fox had finally fallen asleep, I was still sprawled out near the hearth of the barn.  Since arriving, the only time I had really gotten up was to help the stable hands clean up and tend to the animals, as well as any other end of the day chores they had to finish up.  It was just to get them out of there so I could sit in peace.  I liked hanging out in that barn, especially when nobody was around. 

Hawke had been gone for ten days, so I was expecting him to be back soon, which basically meant I had to corner Amrita without delay.  I dropped the fox-naming endeavor (Cole would eventually help me out on that front), and instead began thinking of things to say in my defense, should Amrita oppose my idea.  I mean, I had already decided that I was going to Adamant Fortress, whether she said I could or not.  So, it didn’t really matter. I just kind of wanted to do things the legal way, rather than some other, more difficult, route of things. 

~

“Fitzy!”

I shuddered, from panic as well as dread.  I quickly excused myself from the woman I was talking to, this surgeon who actually seemed to know a thing or two about scientific facts (surprisingly enough), and walked in the opposite direction of the person trying to get my attention.  A small, elven-shaped person.

“Oi!  You heard me – get back here!”

Sera caught me, of course she did, and proceeded to throw an elbow into my gut.  With me winded, she was able to manhandle me back in the direction she’d come from. 

“You’ve been no fun, all hiding and shite,” Sera was telling me, a tight grip on my arm.  “You gotta come get drunk.  Varric’s setting up a game of Wicked Grace for later.”

“I hate card games,” I wheezed, still affected by the cruel hit she’d given me, even as I accepted my fate of a night at the tavern.

It was still early, and not many people were roaming the tavern yet; though I could pick out a couple Chargers and a certain qunari sitting in their usual corner.  Krem spotted us as soon as we walked in, and he waved us over.  I scowled at the extra wide grin on his face, which had grown once he spotted me, and I could see in his eyes that he itching to make fun of me.  I hadn’t really given anybody the chance to corner me after Hawke humiliated me in front of everybody; instead, I preferred to simply avoid large groups of people at any, and all, costs.  Especially when large quantities of alcohol were involved, which always made people more pushy for gossip.

Picture this.  The elf who seduced the Champion of Kirkwall, sailed off to another country to hide from him, and then got called out on it in the middle of a packed library as if I were a character in one of Varric’s dumb novels.  This was my image around Skyhold now, my reputation if you will (and hence, creating my inclination for laying low). 

My relationship with Hawke was public knowledge by this point; or rather, a most likely severely distorted form of it was.  I also had the worst suspicion that Varric was feeling freer with sharing stories about me, from my years in Kirkwall, since the others now knew how close I actually was to Hawke and his gang.  It was just something about the snickers that erupted around the Chargers’ table that warned me.

Since I had been avoiding spending free time with lots of people, nobody had much of a chance to ask me about shit (which was the plan, obviously).  Unfortunately, as the tavern was the epitome of free game, I didn’t have much cover from the taunting now.  That is, until Sera curbed any and all verbal assaults on my person.

“Not a word, Krempuff!” Sera called out, pointedly, as we headed over in the lieutenant’s direction.  “Keep it stuffed, yeah?”  
Oddly touched at Sera’s consideration, I smiled.  Making a face at Krem as we sat down at his table, a tiny bit of relief settled in my stomach.  Maybe this night wouldn’t be that bad.

Everybody followed Sera’s rather crude and vague warning; no one mentioned Hawke or my wanton, heart-breaking ways. 

~

“I thought you said Varric was getting together a…thing,” I was sputtering, after many mugs of ale and a few hours later.  “The thing with the cards…”

Sera gave me an unintelligible answer; she had gotten into a drinking game with Dalish not too long after our arrival in the tavern and had proceeded to get utterly trashed early on in the afternoon.  She was almost gone too, right when Varric decided to show up.

I waved at him, and he saw me immediately.  When he was close enough, I called out to him.

“Yo!  Card game?”

Varric came to a stop before our table, and I brightened when I noticed Amrita wandering behind him, though he spoke before I could yell at her too.

“You asking to join, Scholar?” Varric pretended to sound surprised, brow raised and a smirk on his face. 

“Pfft, as if,” I said back, getting off my bench and reaching out for Amrita.  “’Rita!  You never come here!”

“Actually, she’s always here,” Krem put in, not as drunk as Sera and me.  “She just sticks to a certain elf’s private quarters.”  The table crowed as Amrita’s cheeks turned dark.  I patted her on the shoulder.

“You’re all hilarious,” she said, completely deadpan despite the embarrassment showing on her face.  “Thank you, Fitz, but I don’t want–”

Amrita didn’t finish her sentence, because just then she became distracted with helping Sera, since the woman choose that moment to fall off the bench and onto the floor.  I shrugged, and quit my attempts at giving Amrita a full mug of ale.  Instead, I just started drinking the thing myself.

“I’m just going to get us a table,” Varric said, shaking his head and chuckling at the general rambunctiousness of our area. 

In the end, Amrita did help Sera up, though the other woman decided to cling to her rather than return to her original seat. 

I didn’t join Amrita and Varric, and the others, until much later, when Sera was already passed out under a table and the card game was well underway. 

~

I claimed a corner for myself, and watched their game with drooping eyes.  Most of Amrita’s crew were still crowded around the table, and they seemed pretty into the card game, which was totally beyond me because I thought it the most boring thing I’d ever had to witness with my own two eyes.  The only fun I had was heckling Dorian sporadically, accusing him of cheating or of just plain sucking at this game. 

The tavern was steadily emptying of patrons, as it was getting pretty late, and still the card game seemed to never end.  I almost didn’t take note when it turned into a strip-poker type thing, but that was mostly because Hawke walked through the door just as Cullen was forced to give up his mantle.

“Hawke!” I stood up too quickly, and fell down hard.  The others laughed, and I was up a second later, brushing away Hawke’s hands as he had been the only one to help me up.

“Hello to you, too,” he greeted, sounding pleased to see me even though he was kind of looking me over weirdly.  “Had a bit too much, have you?”

“Nah,” I said, happily. “I’m great.  You’re back!”

He smiled at me, gently guiding me back to my seat, and sat in the chair across from me.  He was about to say something, but Varric called out.

“Deal you in the next round?” he offered, casually, over the din of the table.  Everyone seemed to be having separate conversations, but everyone was happy so it was okay.

“No,” Hawke called back, just as easily.  “Just came by to see what you fools were up to.  Although, I can’t say I expected to see the Commander undoing his shirt.”

Cullen flushed a deep red, while everyone laughed at his expense.  I downed the rest of my cup, enjoying the floating feeling in my head; not an ache in sight.  I had to forgo a lot of drinking when avoiding the general public of Skyhold, and sneaking bottles from the kitchen really only worked in the dead of night (sometimes), so I’d almost missed the feeling I always got when I was drinking.  Almost forgot what it was like not to have a headache.  Made me wonder why I ever tried to limit my drinking, even though I knew it was because Hawke had asked me to.

Maryden was still in her usual corner, strumming her lute as she set up for another song.  I was kind of enjoying it, though it still wasn’t really my type of music.  Meanwhile, Hawke integrated himself quickly into the conversations going on at Varric’s table; he quickly got drawn in when they all began sharing crazy stories.  God knows that, between him and Varric, they had many hours’ worth of material.  It wasn’t boring by any means, I liked listening even if my attention span was waning, but I was soon distracted by the sight of some old faces across the bar.  A few of my old scout mates were leaving the tavern, and hadn’t spotted me yet. 

Sawyer and Natalie, the Orlesian scout who helped me brush up on my language skills, were the ones who stood out the most; as they were the people I usually hung out with back when I actually worked.  I called out to them, waving, and practically jumped out of my chair, marginally calmer than when I went to greet Hawke. 

They met me halfway, all of us grinning, and I proceeded to greet them rather enthusiastically.

“Yo, bro,” I said, smacking hands with Sawyer, which he fumbled on (I think he was expecting a handshake, not a weird high five) and did the same to Natalie.  “I didn’t know you guys were here.”

“We got back from Emprise last night,” Sawyer told me, and I could tell the both of them had been drinking rather heavily, probably in celebration.  “Didn’t know if you’d be here or not.”

“Comment ça va, Fitz?” Natalie asked, flourishing her words deliberately, almost as if she wanted the entire tavern, despite its lacking patrons, to know that she was in fact Orlesian.  Or, she was just drunk and loud. 

“Comme ci comme ça,” I told her, using the one phrase from high school French class that I never had to think twice about saying correctly.  This only encouraged her though, and Natalie was soon throwing all this Orlesian at me, while I tried to respond in kind.  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing when I saw Sawyer’s eyes glaze over. 

We didn’t talk long, they were heading out and I found myself wanting to get back to Hawke anyways.  We said sloppy good-byes, and as they made for the door, Natalie pleaded for me to come back to scouting; calling out, “Sans toi, je m'ennuie tellement.” 

She said it so overdramatically, as if she could not get over the boredom that was scouting without me.  I snorted and watched as Sawyer was practically forced to carry her as they stumbled away from me.

“C’est des conneries,” I called out and Natalie blew me a kiss as Sawyer finally got her through the door.

With those two gone, I went back to the corner where everybody else was.  Only, instead of going to my chair, I thought it would be funny to throw myself onto Hawke.

Falling into the man’s back roughly, I propped my chin on top of his head and looked out at the gamblers next to us.  I didn’t surprise Hawke as much as I thought I would, he simply leaned back into me and let me keep my chin resting on his head.  He did talk to me though.

“Was that Orlesian I heard you speaking?”

“Yeah,” I said, patting my hands on his head like a drum. 

“Since when did you speak Orlesian?”

“Seventh grade,” I told him, without a care in the world. 

“But, you told me you couldn’t speak any other languages but Common,” Josephine suddenly cut in, sounding surprised.  I realized then that the tavern was quiet enough that everyone heard my interactions with my fellow scouts as well as my current conversation with Hawke.  I couldn’t bite back a drunken giggle, so I took back one of my hands, which had still been patting Hawke’s hair, and covered half my face with it.

“I lied,” I told her, a wide grin on my face, which I couldn’t completely hide.  The night was too lighthearted for the whole ‘lying boldfaced to the Inquisition’ thing to be frowned upon, though Josephine did look slightly appalled with me. 

“You never spoke it in Kirkwall,” Hawke interjected, before Josephine or anyone else could say anything.  He reached up, and pulled my remaining hand off his head, and I took that as a sign that it was time for me to flop myself onto the bench next to him.  Suddenly, I just didn’t feel like standing anymore.

Slouched on top of the table, with the left side of my head flat against the surface, and looked up at Hawke through crossing eyes.

“Eh,” I murmured, trying to think.  “Oh, well, yeah.  Not around you.  I pretended to be Orlesian a couple times with merchants though.  Ya know, when I was lookin’ for work.  Yo, did you know Orlesian elf-boys were a novelty?  Fuck me, my tips were so great, bro!”

I didn’t really register the tightening of Hawke’s lips as a sign of anger; I was too out of it to see such social cues.  Rather, I was fondly remembering how much people seemed to tip when you spoke French to them; even if it’s only an accent.

“Where’d you learn it, Scholar?  Your accent is far from native,” Varric called, evidently still listening.  Like with the dark look on Hawke’s face, I didn’t notice the searching tone in Varric’s voice.  Instead, I got annoyed at what I thought was a repetitive question.

“I jus’ told ya,” I said, with frustration.  “Seventh grade French class.  Middle school, high school.  And, okay okay.  I _may_ have used Google translate, even though the teacher told us not to–”

“Fitz,” Amrita broke in, loudly.  “I think it’s time you called it in, yes?  You’re speaking _nonsense_.”  I blinked as I did register the weird tone in her voice, just barely missing the fact that she was trying to stop me before I said anything too incriminating.  Luckily, her words did make me stop.  They also made me realize I was bored.

Rejuvenated by the sudden urge to leave, an idea forming in my mind, and I may have taken the others by surprise with my vehemence as I shot up from my seat.

“Yeah, you guys aren’t even that drunk, and Cullen’s not even naked.  I’m out.”

I picked my way to the door, only half hearing the various reactions to my departure; sighs, chuckling, and one grumble (probably from Cullen).  I also heard a bench being moved, and footsteps following me.  From the entrance’s threshold, I looked back to see Hawke following after me and I grinned widely, probably looking a bit loopy.  Holding onto the doorframe, I waved at him.

“Come on, G,” I called, my words coming out somewhat slurred, and I just stood there grinning at him, not really seeing anyone else.  “I gotta show you somethin’!” and then I took off through the door while Hawke called for me to slow down.

He caught up easily, once I had made it to the staircase that would lead me down to the front gates.  I had to concentrate hard as I went down the stairs, which meant I had to go crazy slow, or else I knew I’d have an epic fall on my hands.  When Hawke joined me, his hand ghosted across my back; not quite holding onto me, just making sure he could catch me in case I actually did fall.

“Alright, where are you leading us?” he finally asked, as I had just been humming under my breath as I watched my feet take the stairs one slow step at a time.

“You have to meet Iron Man,” I told him, happily looking over him with a large smile as I thought about my fox.  Of course, that’s also when I tripped, and Hawke had to haul me up by the back of my tunic.

“Careful,” he warned, but we made it to the bottom without any more mishaps and then I could finally hurry my way across the courtyard.  Hawke kept pace easily and when we finally made it to the stables, I stumbled my way over to the corner that had been delegated for the baby fox.  It was just on the other side of the fire from where the kittens called home.

I told Hawke to be quiet, in a loud whisper, and then fell into a sloppy crouch next to Iron Man’s nest.  The little fox was still curled up on himself when I revealed him to Hawke, though I knew he wouldn’t be like that for long.  Iron Man usually liked to play in the very early hours of the morning, when it was still dark out.  He probably used to hunt at this time of day, back when he was still in the wild, but he seemed to have acclimated well to the new life structure in Skyhold.  And not to brag or anything, but he absolutely adored me.

Hawke crouched down next to me, with much more control of his movements than me, and leaned in to look at my fox.  He hummed, and glanced at me.

“What was it you called this little guy?”

“Iron Man!” I exclaimed, though I hushed myself when the fox twitched in his sleep.  Turning my head and exaggeratedly cupping my mouth to whisper, I told Hawke the story behind the fox’s name.

“Cole voted for Bucky,” I whispered, accidentally falling into Hawke’s side as I leaned in.  He caught me easily and allowed me to continue.  “But there’s no way that little guy is an assassin.  Just because he hurt his leg doesn’t make him the Winter Soldier.”

I reached out a hand, and ran my fingers through Iron Man’s fur.

“Besides, Iron Man is an asshole, just like this lil’ guy,” I told Hawke.  Then, after a moment’s pause, I added on, “And they’re kinda the same color.  A little bit.”

Hawke sighed, and I felt him shake his head.  “You do know that I didn’t understand any of that, right?”

I snickered.  “Sorry.  I’ll explain Marvel someday.”

“Right, I’m sure,” he said and then there was a moment’s pause.  He decided not to comment, as he changed the topic with an added beat to his voice.  “So, is this…Iron Man also the cause for all the bandages on your hands?”

“Yeah,” I said, proudly.  I patted the fox on the back in praise, even though he was still sleeping and had no idea what we were talking about.  “He’s a total savage.”

Hawke chuckled, and his arm was thrown around my shoulder.  “You know, we should probably let your friend sleep.”  He didn’t stand immediately; he just let us stay as we were, with me leaning against him while I watched my fox sleep.  Then, he was jostling me, telling me to get up.

“You should be asleep as well.”

I blew out a puff of air, but let Hawke pull me up anyways.  I didn’t help him any though.

~

“Maker’s – Shit, walk forward, Fitz.  Not sideways.”

“Oh, no, I’m gone.”  I would’ve fallen down, but Hawke caught me at the last second, though he cursed the whole way up the steps that would eventually lead us to the floor of my bedroom.

“Next time, I swear I’ll let you fall.”

“That’s so mean, like, on the ground?”  I tried turning my head around to peer up at him, partially wanting to make sure he saw that I was pouting.  He took one look at my face and shoved it down with the palm of his free hand. “Hey! Rude!”

“Get walking, you little shit.”

We made it to my room and, luckily, I fell onto my bed and not the floor.  I lost time laying there, because next thing I knew, I was lying straight in my bed, rather than across the width of it, and Hawke was basically tucking me in.

“Hawke…Hawke.”  I struggled to extract my hand from under the blanket, probably making it seem harder than it should’ve been, but I got his attention anyways. 

Arm freed, I reached up and grabbed onto his arm.  Without warning, I tugged down, sharply, with enough strength that Hawke almost fell on top of me.

“You–” Hawke fought to release my grip from his arm, fingers trying to carefully pry my hand away.  “Don’t do that.  You want to suffocate?”

“You’re not that fat,” I said sincerely, like a compliment.  “’Sides, Solas says that’s what my blanket’s for.”

“What?” he asked me, sounding resigned.  Even though he’d gotten me to release my death grip, he didn’t move away.  It probably had a lot to do with the fact that I’d went on to intertwine our fingers instead.  He stayed where he was, half-way leaning over me.  I grinned up at him.

“I got…I gotta tell you somethin’,” I whispered, loudly.  My eyes were unfocused, and I was fucking smashed, but I could still tell that he wore a soft smile on his face, just barely there.  But I saw it.

“Oh, you do, do you?” he responded in an answering whisper, playing along with my antics.  “And what’s that?”

“I realized somethin’ ‘bout me – ‘bout me and you, I guess,” I freed our hands, but kept my hand raised.  I spread my fingers out and, when Hawke got my nonverbal message, he copied me.  I fit our hands together, focusing on the grainy feel of his palm resting against mine.  His hand was bigger than mine, but his fingers were shorter.

“Fitz,” he said thickly, resting his other hand on my head.  I don’t know how long I had let the silence go on, just staring at our hands, but I had almost fallen asleep during it.  His voice brought me back.  “You have to stop all this damn drinking.”

“I know...jus’ don’t feel…headaches, ya know?” I slurred back at him, not noticing him nudge my hand down with a gentle push of his palm.  He didn’t respond, but he didn’t leave either. 

Again, I don’t know how long the silence went on, but it seemed Hawke couldn’t keep his curiosity in check.

“Fitz, you were going to tell me something.”

I turned over onto my side, sleepily peering up at him from under my blanket, which I didn’t remember bringing up to my face.  When I spoke, my voice came out muffled and sluggish.

“Oh…yeah.  Was dumb.” 

I could remember wanting to tell him something, but in that moment I couldn’t remember what.  I furrowed my brow, and tried to recall it.  It seemed important, like my subconscious somehow knew that I wouldn’t have another chance at saying whatever it was that I wanted to tell him.  Not when I was sober, at least.

“Tell me anyways,” Hawke said softly, his hand still laying on my head.  His fingers rubbed circles lightly onto my scalp, probably messing my curls up beyond belief, but it was gentle and I dimly thought about how I didn’t want him to stop.

“Ah…I didn’t like it,” I murmured, my voice coming out even more muffled than before. “…didn’t like seein’ you go.”

“What was that?”  Hawke leaned in closer.  “I didn’t quite catch it.”

“I said, I…” My words trailed off, and half-way through my sentence, I finally fell asleep.

~

Varric was talking about some guy or another, who screwed him over at some point, when Hawke finally decided to bring up Adamant in front of me. 

Hawke at least waited for a lull in Varric’s bitching to start talking.

“Fitz,” he began, hesitantly, exchanging a glance with Varric.  I looked up from my half-eaten apple and watched as a look of understanding flooded Varric’s expression before turning my gaze to Hawke.  The man wasn’t smiling, and he looked very serious.  I tensed a bit, automatically thinking he was about to bring up the things I’d said the other night.  Or worse, he was going to lay into me about my drinking habits.

“I don’t know how much you know, since we haven’t actually had a chance to talk about…what it is I’ve been doing for the past year, and during my time with the Inquisition,” he said, and then pausing once again, as if to find his words, and his eyes darted away from mine.  After a moment, they returned and I raised my eyebrows as a sign for him to continue.  He sighed.

“Varric and I will be leaving soon, with your Inquisitor and a few of the others,” he told me, and I blinked at him.  He was talking slowly, as if breaking some horrible news to me.  Which, I guess you could look at it that way.  He thought he was leaving me behind.

“For Adamant,” I said, matter-of-factly.  Hawke exchanged another look with Varric before nodding.

“Well, yes.  We leave in a few weeks.  Once all the preparations have been finalized.”

“Uh, yeah.  I know,” I told him, abandoning my apple and leaning back in my chair as I prepared to break the news to him.  “I’m goin’ too.”

There was a short moment where my words clearly didn’t register to Hawke, because he was still nodding along to my words.  I watched, and almost laughed, when the beat dropped and he froze.  He didn’t say anything, but I could see his eyes narrowing, even as Varric decided to join the conversation.

“Since when, Scholar?” the dwarf asked, skeptically.  He didn’t look like he believed me whatsoever, and the look he gave me was almost reprimanding.  However, I shrugged it off unapologetically.

“Uh, I dunno.  Recently,” I said, casually, like it didn’t matter.  Truth was, I never actually got around to asking Amrita to sign me up.  The first time I saw her since my decision to join, was when I was already drunk and totally not thinking about Adamant at all.

“You are not going,” Hawke finally spoke, leaning over the table to look me sternly in the face.  “Absolutely not.”

“Pfft.  Says you,” I scoffed, crossing my arms.  “I don’t see an Inquisitor badge on your arm.”

Hawke stood up abruptly.

“Well,” he said, much too calmly, as he started walking away.  “I do happen to have a meeting with the Inquisitor and her advisors.  Right this moment, believe it or not.  So, I’ll just have to see what they say about this.”

I almost toppled my chair trying to stand up.  He was walking away, heading right for Josephine’s office, and I set off after him.

“Hey!  What d’ya mean by that?” I practically shouted after him, catching up even as he quickened his pace.  “Don’t you shit-talk me to them!”

“Would I do that?” he gasped, intentionally making it so that I couldn’t bypass him.  His elbows knocked into my sides, and I scowled.

“Fine,” I gritted out, shoving him right back.  “I guess I’ll just have to join you.”

I’d like to say we didn’t fight the entire way to the War Room, but that’d be a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the french bits in this chapter: Natalie tells Fitz that 'without you, i am so bored' ((I literally took it from the song 'Tu vas me manquer' by Maitre Gims - great song!)) and Fitz just says: 'that's bullshit'
> 
> Ahh yes, we're heading somewhere...fun stuff planned. I am very excited :O 
> 
> ~oh! also: ok so I think its pretty fair to say the ship name is down between Fawkes and Hawtz, so if you guys would just like to vote once again on either of those? They are both super names, so if yall feel either way, feel free to share your opinion :D 
> 
> thank you for reading & for all the absolutely sweet comments, love yall!!


	47. Act II: Yeah, But Did You Die Tho?

“Stop – _fuckin’_ – pushing me!”  I yelled, as Hawke elbowed me yet again; shoving me behind him so that he could beat me to our destination.  We had a guard half-heartedly trailing after us, but we paid him no mind.  He’d been standing in the front of the door to the long hallway, just kind of hanging around, when me and Hawke had busted in and surprised him.  By the way the guy tried to stop both of us, I assumed Hawke was a bold-faced liar and didn’t actually have a meeting with Amrita at that very second.  The jerk.

Hawke beat me to the door, and if he were any more dramatic, he would have kicked it open.  He tried to shut the door on me, but he wasn’t all that dedicated, so I slipped in with ample time to actually kick the door shut on the guard still calling after us.  Hawke went straight for Amrita.

She and the advisors, including some lady I’d never seen before, stood around the war table, looking at us with varying levels of expression.  Leliana was composed, Cullen looked indignant, and Josephine was shocked.  The lady I didn’t know simply raised a brow and proceeded to give us a once over with a rather judge-y look in her eyes.  As for Amrita, she seemed to be torn between surprise and annoyance.  I think she was blaming me for the disturbance, if the narrowed eyes she directed at me were any indication of who she thought was at fault for this surprise visit. 

I opened my mouth, hurrying to give my piece before Hawke slandered me to hell and back.  Predictably, he spoke over me.

“Fitz here thinks he’s coming with us.  To Adamant.”  Hawke placed both hands on the War Table, spreading them out and leaning over to get in Amrita’s face.  “Tell him he’s not going.”

Finally joining everyone at the table, I tried elbowing Hawke (partially out of revenge for earlier) though it did nothing, so I gave up on trying to get back at him.  Instead, I focused on championing my cause to Amrita, since Hawke refused to listen to me at all.

“Uh, like, hell yeah I’m going,” I said, the ‘duh’ evident in my tone.  “’Rita, tell him to fuck off.”

Amrita gave me a look, probably telling me to mind my language or something like that, but didn’t immediately respond.  There was a moment when the silence went awkward and kind of intimidating (I’d never been in this War Room before), and then Amrita was finally speaking.

“Fitz,” she said, with an unnecessarily large sigh.  “Hawke has a point.  I’m not sure you’re ready for this particular mission.  It’s dangerous–”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’ve been training,” I said back, eagerly.  “Cassandra – where the hell is she anyways? – she’s been helping me practice, like, daily and everythin’!  She promised to talk to you, too.  She even taught me how to use a sword!”

A suspicious snort issued from someone, though I couldn’t pinpoint exactly who is was that laughed because, just then, Hawke decided to intervene.

“Oh, since when did ‘daily’ come to mean ‘periodically’ and ‘less than three times a week’?” he asked, snidely, while still facing Amrita.  I scowled at him heavily, so that he could see it even from his periphery.

“Whoa, who made you the definition police?” I said back, just as snidely.  “Shut the fu–”

“What of your health?” Amrita interrupted, leaning in to catch my attention, seeing as I was fairly focused on cursing Hawke in that moment.  “We can’t have you falling during battle.  You know that.”

I waved a hand, and rolled my eyes for extra emphasis. 

“Oh, please.  I’m a-okay, thanks.  Solas approved and everything.” I said, with cheer.  “I haven’t passed out in, like, forever.  Ask Solas.”

Amrita stared at me, worrying her bottom lip.  She knew I had been slowly improving.  I mean, she didn’t know the extent of headaches, but nobody knew how far they went, so I was in the clear.  On the outside, it really did seem as if I were getting better and maybe, at least physically, I really was improving.  I widened my eyes at Amrita, and gave her a short nod of my head; encouraging her to take my side.  From next to me, Hawke’s hands formed into fists, still laying atop the War Table. 

“You cannot honestly be considering this,” he said with a slight growl in his voice.  “You can’t let him–” I cut him off with one sharp jab to the side, hard enough that he had to take a breath; giving me the perfect opportunity to interject.

“Yo, you can’t order her around,” I told him, shaking my head in disgust.  “She’s the Inquisitor, goddammit.”  I looked back at Amrita with pleading eyes, and hoped she could see that, despite my joking tone, I was dead-set serious on going with them to Adamant. 

“Come on, ‘Rita.  You gotta lemme go,” I said, sounding maybe a little hypocritical.  I could practically feel Hawke’s temper rising from beside me.  I couldn’t help the small smirk that rose up at that, even though I attempted to smother it.

“Alright,” Amrita finally spoke, her voice weary.  Resigned.  “Fitz, you’re coming.”  I started crowing, elbowing Hawke again, but Amrita put me into place with a stern look and one point of her index finger.

“But, if you so much as have a fit,” she told me, slowly and meaningfully.  “If you faint, pass out, _anything_ – you will remain at camp and will, under no circumstances, join us for battle.  Understand?”

I saluted, with a serious face, and agreed.  Hawke was silent, and most likely fuming. 

“Not to say that this isn’t amusing,” a voice cut in, drawing all of our attention.  The lady I didn’t recognize leaned against her side of the table, a bored expression on her face.  “But, do you really allow such juveniles in an organization as grand as the Inquisition?  Within your inner circle no less?”

I made a face at her, raising my eyebrows.

“Uh, rude,” I said, adopting a snobby tone to match hers.  “You wanna go, man?”

The woman blinked at me, possibly not comprehending what I meant.  I shrugged my shoulders at her, but didn’t get the chance to say anything else.  Amrita beat me to it.

“Sorry about all this, Morrigan,” she said, apologetically.  “I would say it isn’t always like this, but I don’t wish to lie to you.” 

“Well, I believe this has been resolved quite nicely,” Leliana put in, sending a look my way, probably trying to indicate that it was time I left.  “Your persuasion tactics are up to par, as always, Fitz.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, detecting some kind of sarcasm in her voice, but then Hawke was hauling me out of the room, bodily, so I didn’t get to stick around to find out.  I did get a chance to send a quick thumbs up to Amrita, as a silent thanks, before Hawke dragged me out of the room.

The man had his hand fisted in the back of my shirt, using it like a handle to pull me after him.  I only let him do so because he’d caught me off guard.  By the time the War Room’s doors shut behind us, I was slapping his hand away.

“Dude, you’re gonna rip my shirt,” I snapped, straightening my tunic and pushing past the man so that I could walk ahead of him.  He followed, just a step behind.

“What in the Void is wrong with you?” he demanded, angrily.  “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

“Oh, fuck you,” I said back, not even bothering to turn my head so that he could see me roll my eyes.  It was apparent in my voice.  “You know damn well I was dead serious in there.”

“You have no idea the danger we will face at Adamant,” he threw back, his long strides nearly putting him at pace with me.  “You act like we will be taking on an easy band of mercenaries.  If you knew the true weight of our enemies, you would not be going through your whole charade of mockery and nonchalance.”

I snorted, and shook my head.  “Um, excuse you.  I would totally be putting on my ‘charade of mockery’.  Like, damn–”

Hawke shut me up with a quick blindside.  He’d caught up enough that he matched my stride, and I guess my words were enough to push him over the edge.  I thought this because next thing I knew, he had me pushed up against the wall of Josephine’s office, just outside of the doorway that led to the War Room’s long hallway.  The guard, the same one we had brushed past earlier, was there and he didn’t even protest this time.  All Hawke had to do was bark at the guy, and he was running off.

Hawke held me to the wall with one arm across my chest, sending a flurry of emotion through me; surprise and anger, to name a few.  I jerked forward, attempting to throw him off, but he held firm.  I settled for glaring at him instead, knowing he was too strong for me to push away in this position.

He glared right back, with a scowl on his face and everything.  I don’t know how long we kept up the glaring match, but eventually Hawke seemed to come to a decision about something; though the anger didn’t really leave him.

“You have no idea,” he gritted out.  “No clue what we’re up against.  I’m asking you to listen to me, and stay out of this fight.  It’s all I’m asking.”

In my own anger, I unintentionally set my jaw; I could feel it jutting out slightly as I stared Hawke down.

“And all I’m sayin’ is, no.”  I said, without any remorse.  “I’m goin’ with you, no matter what you say.  Besides, I thought you said you weren’t gonna coddle me anymore.”

Hawke breathed through his nose, eyes almost crossing as he attempted to roll them to the back of his head.  He removed his arm from my chest, and then brought both hands up to rub at his temples.

After a moment, he spoke.

“I’m not _coddling_ you,” he said, suddenly sounding so weary.  “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”  The ‘or worse’ went unsaid; but even I could hear it in his voice.

I tried to roll back the attitude, though I sorely wanted to contest his words.  Instead, I forced myself to relax against the wall I was leaning against, placing my palms out flat on the stone surface, focusing on the groves each stone slab made against my skin rather than the anger that still sat in my stomach.

“Yeah, well…I don’t want you to get hurt either,” I told him, finally finding my voice.  I was relieved that it only sounded a bit grumbly.  “It’s a two-way street, buddy.”

Hawke looked up at me, raising his eyes from some point over my head to stare into my eyes.  I twitched at the eye contact, but forced myself to maintain it, even if it made my heart beat a little too fast for my liking. 

That’s when I realized that, while he was not pushing me up against a wall anymore, he really was standing way too close.  I didn’t move, though.  I couldn’t; not when he was looking at me like that.

“A two-way street to what?” he asked me, a lilt in his voice that hadn’t been there before.  I remember being conflicted over that damn lilt; I couldn’t tell what it meant.  I couldn’t tell if my heart jumped from relief that he didn’t sound angry any more or…something else.

“To equality paradise.  What d’ya think?” I ended up muttering, finally able to look away from him.

I felt it when he leaned in, and my hands acted on their own accord; they reached up to rest on his chest, not pushing.  Just resting.

“Hawke,” I said, quietly.  “What’re you–”

“You never moved away.  I let go, but you didn’t move,” he said, just as softly.  “I guess…I was just wondering what it meant.”  

Hawke sighed, close enough that when he inclined his head downwards, his forehead rested perfectly against my own.  I still didn’t move.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I mean, I knew what he was getting at, but I also knew that I didn’t want to give him an answer yet.  I didn’t know if I could trust myself with his love.  I was still so worried about letting him down, in some way or another.

I didn’t protest though, not even as these thoughts rushed through my mind.  Not even when I felt the soft strands of his hair pressed against my forehead.

Instead, I just closed my eyes. 

“I’m not trying to control you,” Hawke said to me, and I felt his breath hit my cheek as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, our foreheads still touching.  I felt the coarse hairs of his beard rub against my cheek, for a brief moment, before I turned my own head in the opposite direction. 

“I can’t stop myself from worrying.”

He pulled his head back, just a bit, and brought his hands up to cover my own, which were still held against his chest.  His grip was light and even comforting, despite the roughness of his skin on mine. 

“I never want to see you hurt again,” he was saying; while I stared at our connected hands, and I slouched slightly against the wall now that Hawke had sort of moved back.  “You still carry a pain around with you.  You can’t hide that from me, so please…give me a break if I can’t help but be protective over you.”

“God,” I said, roughly.  I shook my head, feeling slightly nauseous from it all.  “Why you gotta…fuck, man.  Why you gotta say things like that?”

Finally, gently, I pulled my hands back and Hawke let them go.  He watched me take a few steps to the side, while I looked everywhere but at him.

I didn’t know what to say.  I wanted to ask why he cared so much, why he didn’t even seem angry anymore.  But, I’m not an eloquent person so I didn’t say any of that in oh so many words.

“You’re so stupid,” I muttered instead, shaking my head again and turning away from him completely.

“Why d’ya,” I started, exhaling with all the weight in the world.  “Fuck.  Why you gotta _feel_ so much?  You shouldn’t–”

“You say that like it’s only me,” he responded, letting out a huff of sarcastic laughter, and turned me, gently, back around to face him.  He levelled me with a look, his eyes bringing back all the weight I’d just breathed out.  “You’re not emotionless, Fitz.  You know damn well you’re not.  And everyone in this blighted fortress knows it, too, if they’ve ever seen you drunk.  Or around that damned fox of yours.  I don’t know why you keep trying to act so hardened.”

“It’s – It’s not easy, okay?” I said, taking a deep breath and raising a hand to shake a finger at him, as if I were about to make a point.  It was just a nervous tick though; just moving for the sake of moving, as well as to shake away the impression that his hand had left on mine.  “This is all freakin’ me out, man.  I-I dunno what the fuck I’m doin’.  I don’t even know if I should be–” I stopped speaking.

“If it is space you need, I will gladly give it,” Hawke said, after waiting for me to finish my sentence and realizing that I wasn’t going to.  He even took a step back; I guess to emphasize his words.  But all it did was make my heart wrench, and I couldn’t hold back.

“No!” I replied much too loudly, and too quickly.  I actually had to force my hand down when I realized I’d nearly reached out to him.  “That’s not what I want.  I jus’…”  I trailed off, unable to say anything else, even when faced with the frustration, and the confusion, coloring Hawke’s features.

“Then, I am at just as much of a loss as you are.  I don’t know what I can do.  Until you are through doubting yourself, until you are done contradicting your words and your actions,” he was saying as he placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly, and all the while, I just stared with wide eyes.  “I don’t know what more there is I can say to you, except…is it not tiring?  To deny yourself the right of even accepting that someone out there _loves_ you?”

“I’m tryin’,” I said, my words spewing out in a rush of emotion; the very thing he was accusing me of _having_ (and hiding).  I turned my head away when I felt tears well up from the frustration; I hated not being able to just talk and make everyone understand what I meant.  I could never understand why it had to be so hard for me, and it pissed me the hell off.  It still does.

“I’m tryin’,” I repeated, as I attempted to subtly wipe my eyes on the top of my shoulder, keeping my gaze down.

I twitched, but didn’t tense, when Hawke picked up my hands, bringing them up to hover in between both of our chests.  He uncurled my fingers from the fists they’d formed during our talk, and encased my hands with his, and he did it with such gentle ease that it nearly made me go slack.  I never thought holding hands could feel so normal, so easy, but Hawke always seemed to make it so. 

“Fitz,” his voice beckoned me to look at him, and I did.  “Trying is all you have to do.”

I shook my head, with a slightly derisive snort, and looked away.  “Yeah, right.”

He squeezed my hands and then pulled me forward, making me lean towards him from the surprise of it.  My eyes met his again, which was probably his goal.

“Trying is enough, alright?” he said in a reassuring voice, calm and soft, while searching my eyes for some answer or another.  He let go of holding my hands with both of his, instead moving to cradle one of my cheeks in his left palm, and my eyes fluttered closed, for a second, before I forced myself to talk.

“Hawke, we shouldn’t–”

“No one can ask you to do more than you’re able,” he whispered, leaning his head towards mine, and his hand still held my cheek, his palm holding my chin upwards so that I could not look down anymore.  I felt a moment of fear that he would kiss me again when he brought his other hand up to mesh with my hair, and I rested both of my freed hands on the soft cloth of his tunic, clutching the fabric with shaky fingers. But, in the end, all he did was move the hand on my cheek to the back of my neck, tucking my head under his chin.  “Not even yourself.”

“Sucha fuckin’ sap,” I muttered into the side of his neck, nestling into the crook of it before I could help myself.  I breathed in, the weirdest thoughts crossing my mind; like ones telling me to never move, ever again.  I felt tears rising up once more and wondered if there would ever be a time where I’d find the courage to say what I really meant.

~

A day before we left, I joined Amrita for a quick evening chat.  We stood, side by side, on the spacious balcony that gave her room such a nice view.  It was cold, but we were both well bundled up, and we weren’t going to be out there for too long.  She just wanted to talk.

“I know what you’re doing,” she told me, after just a moment of appreciating the scenery in front of us.  I didn’t look over at her, but I did smile; making sure it was set in place, and ready to combat anything she had to say to me.  She shifted around to face me, her body leaning against the balcony’s sturdy railing.  She kept talking.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, voice stern.  She sounded almost like a teacher, or a sister, trying to get some point across.  I felt like groaning.  “You don’t have to prove your worth to Hawke by joining us in battle.  You know he loves–”

“Dude, chill,” I sighed, tilting my head in her direction, though I kept my eyes on the mountains in the distance.  “I’m not provin’ anything to Hawke.”

“Oh?” Amrita said back, with a fair amount of sarcasm.  “So, this has nothing to do with making sure he views you as an equal, and not the child he knew back in Kirkwall?”

I scowled, finally turning to face my friend head-on.  “No.”

Amrita waited for me to explain, so I took a breath and elaborated.

“I’m proving this to me.  And me only,” I said, even though the last part was a stretch. Okay, it was more like an outright lie, but whatever.  Amrita’s words held some truth to them, but proving myself to Hawke really wasn’t my whole point in forcing myself into this upcoming mission.  “I wanna fight with all you guys.  Guts and glory, yeah?  I figured it was time to join this Inquisition thing.  For real.”

“Scouting is real.”

I made a face and leaned further over the railing, staring at the rocks below us rather than at Amrita’s serious face.

“Okay, you wanna go deeper, huh,” I muttered, still staring downwards.  I hesitated, and then straightened up again.  Goosebumps spread across my skin, sending chills down my back, which had little to do with the cold weather than it did with where I was about to take this.

“I’ve never been in a battle.  Did you know that?” I asked, glancing at my friend.  I didn’t wait for a response, I kept going.  “Little fights, yeah.  You know, maybe there’s a giant or a batshit demon, but not an army.  Like, full-on war shit?  Nah, never,” I sucked in a breath and exhaled.  “What I’m tryin’ to say is…I need to know I can handle this.  If I can, then shit.  I can handle anything, right?”

I asked her like it was something vital; like something crucial to my very being.  It’s kind of fucked up when you think war is easier to handle than being in love, but shit; that’s where my mind was going and it went symbolic to all hell.  If I join everyone in battle, hold my own, and even survive; I’d be okay.  It would pretty much counteract all the shit I’ve been going through, with the fainting and the weakness, you know?

I hated feeling weak.  Hated it even more when Hawke was around to see it.  But, I knew I had to get my shit together and that included getting my own self-image to a point where I didn’t hate everything about myself. 

Adamant will be the symbolic end-all for me.  If I’m to truly plan on staying in Thedas, that means getting with the program and right now that program is the Inquisition.  I’d been a part of it since it’s early days and, yeah, it’s still young, but I’ve been mostly just using it as an outlet to numb my mind.  Just like I’d been doing for the past fucking decade, with all the bullshit repression I forced on myself.  I don’t want to do that anymore.  So, by joining in the fight at Adamant Fortress, I was leaving that part of me behind.  I’m going to be _here_ , not in my head or on another planet, but on Thedas, with Hawke and all the other people I’ve grown to like.  Get past that, and maybe then I’ll be able to move past my more personal issues.  I mean, I’m definitely planning it; I just hope I leave Adamant feeling more secure in myself and the life I have here.

Maybe it’s stupid of me, feeling this way and shit, but that’s too bad.  Feelings don’t make sense, and I swear they never fucking have.  I’ll probably never be able to explain them well, but the general idea should at least be there.

“I don’t know, Fitz,” Amrita said, pulling me from my thoughts.  When I looked at her, she wore a worried face that I had to look away from.  “But, I suppose if you feel that you _have_ to do this…”

She never finished her sentence, but it didn’t matter.  I don’t think she fully understood me and, hell, it's not like I explained it all that well either, but Amrita respected me anyways.

“How is your head?”

I didn’t twitch.  I just kept staring at the mountains, and for some reason the sight of their peaks calmed me.  Then, I grinned.

“Fine.”

~

We left Skyhold with Cullen and his troops about a week after I joined on.  It took forever just to reach the Western Approach, which was in the most western part of Orlais (hence the name, I suppose).  I wasn’t used to being in such a big party, and we were just the first wave.  More Inquisition troops were to be following us in the upcoming days, and I was told that many were already in the Western Approach, awaiting our arrival.  I didn’t hear a lot about the planning, like the siege plans and whatnot, but I knew enough that we were going to be camped out for a day or two before actually engaging in any sort of battle.  That’s okay, even if it did make everything feel a bit too drawn out.

It was weird, and freaking awesome, to be out and about again, especially on such a big trip.  I’m not saying I was bouncing around like some excitable kid though.  I was just a bit upbeat, you know?

I stuck by Hawke’s side for most of the journey, and we were joined, more often than not, by Varric.  In fact, even Bull and Solas stayed near our side during the trip, though the former was more apt to talking to anybody and everybody during breaks.  I think it had to do with the fact that we were all a part of Amrita’s inner circle, so it kind of made sense for us to hang together.  Which was kind of funny, at least to me.  It made me feel like I was in some clique or, like, the president’s secret cabinet or something. 

“Not getting nervous, are you?” Bull asked me one evening, when we were only a day’s ride away from Adamant.  He had found it all very amusing; my excitement as well as my obvious inexperience.  Everyone knew I’d never been in any sort of large-scale battle, but I didn’t care.  Even if it did mean I got a lot of shit for it.

“Nah,” I said back, coolly, while my leg bounced up and down uncontrollably as I tried my best to relax on the makeshift bench I was sitting on.  I stopped when Hawke’s hand fell on my knee, and I didn’t push him away, even though my gut reaction was to jump off the bench.  I tried to ignore the weight, focusing on answering Bull instead.

“This is gonna be so sick, dude,” I said, maybe coming off a bit too eager.  “Like, literally.”  I tried not to think about the gore that was to come, but it was kind of hard to do when that’s where my mind decided to go whenever I thought about war.  However, I didn’t want to dwell too much on shit.  No one else was.

“You use that word synonymously with words like ‘awesome’, is that right?” Varric asked from where he sat across the fire from me.  “I’ve been thinking of starting a book on all the weird shit you say.”

Bull and Hawke both had a small laugh at that, but I just shrugged my shoulders.

“Rad, bro,” I said, like it was such a great idea.  “You can call it ‘Urban Dictionary.”

Varric arched an eyebrow, probably at the promptness of my suggestion, and asked, “Alright, and where’d you get that title from?”

“The internet,” I said, delighting in the way nobody understood me.  At this point, I think people expected to hear me talk nonsense, so it made it a hell of a lot easier to let things slip.  I liked to think that I was easing myself into talking about my other-worldly nature, eventually.  But honestly, it was just kind of fun.

I’d almost forgot about how close I was to Hawke, when his hand moved from my knee, to ruffling my hair. 

“Do you just make up words, or do they actually mean anything?” Hawke asked, while I fought to remove his hand from messing up my hair.  “Because, personally, I think you just like it when people stare at you in confusion.”

“Okay, yo, cut the shit,” I pleaded, as I lost the battle to save my hair.  Hawke laughed in my face, just once, before he finally stopped.  I could literally feel the strands standing up straight on my head.  “You fuckin’–”

“Would you look at that, Tiny,” Varric drawled, sounding like he was holding in a laugh as well.  “Doesn’t Scholar over there look like he just got on the wrong end of lightning?”

“I would disagree with you, Master Tethras,” Solas broke into the conversation, a light smile on his face.  “I daresay no elements could do quite that much damage, not even by magic.”

I made a face at him, and made sure Solas knew it was directed at him. 

“Wish you’d stop doin’ that,” I muttered to Hawke, as I tried to pat my hair back down.  “So not cool, man.”

Hawke huffed out a light laugh, and reached out to run his hand through my hair again; only this time gently, with the intent of smoothing it down.  The heat of the fire seemed stifling all of a sudden.

“My apologies,” Hawke replied, completely unapologetic.  His hand lingered on the back of my head, smoothing down one particularly stubborn curl, before dropping down to the nape of my neck, and then my back.  I glanced at him, and our eyes met.

Suddenly, I knew we were both remembering what happened the night before we left Skyhold, and I could feel my face heating up to a point where I knew I couldn’t blame it on the fire anymore.

Hawke just grinned, and looked away first, seamlessly integrating himself back into the conversation that had kept going around us.  Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop thinking about his hand on the small of my back.

~

The night before we left Skyhold, Cole had stopped me on my way back from talking with Amrita.  I guess I can admit to being a bit reflective and emotional or whatever, so I probably called out to the kid without really knowing.  He seemed to hear me clear as anyone else these days.

“You’re used to the mountains now, but you miss the ocean,” Cole said.  “Not your ocean.  His.  And it makes you feel so guilty, betrayal to what was once home but isn’t anymore.”

I sighed.  Cole had stopped me right outside of the door to my room, so I kind of just stood there and braced myself for the onslaught, because the kid was on a roll.

“You’re allowed to move on,” he told me, peering at me with sincerity in his tone as well as in his eyes.  “Varric told me it’s okay to want more, to let yourself be happy.  It’s what they would have wanted anyway, if they knew where you went.”

“Are you going to Adamant, Cole?” I asked him, preferring not to comment on his words.  I felt them, and he already knew that.  Unlike most people, Cole didn’t always need verbal clarification.  Well, at least not in this case.  The main point is, Cole said what he thought I needed reminding of, because while I hadn’t explicitly been thinking of home, and how I had given up on it, I had been feeling this inexplicable weight in my chest.  A weight that I suppose felt a lot like guilt and dread.  Cole was just reminding me that my decisions were okay.

“No, I don’t…” he began, looking to the side with what I thought might’ve been a shudder, and I felt a moment of alarm, wondering if I had said the wrong thing to him.  “I thought it would be too much...  I don’t want to–”

“I get ya,” I said, laying a hand on his shoulder, and relieving him of the difficulty of answering.  “I’ll see you when I get back, then?  You’ll take care of Iron Man?”

“I will,” Cole solemnly replied, as if I had just departed a sacred duty onto him.  “Oh, and Hawke wants to talk with you.  He’s been waiting.”

With that, Cole ghosted out of the hallway, and I jerked away from my door as Hawke appeared from out of nowhere.  He’d been hanging out just around the corner, and had probably waited so he wouldn’t interrupt us.

“Now what?” I said a bit irritably, thinking Hawke was going to try and convince me to stay behind again.  “I’m goin’, fair and square, so don’t even–”

Hawke rolled his eyes as he approached me.  I had one hand around the doorknob to my room; had been about to go in when he appeared.  Instead, I gripped the knob tight and didn’t move an inch; images from that moment we shared, back in Josephine’s office, played through my mind.

“Yes, yes,” he said it dismissively, but he was peering down at me with curiosity in his eyes.  “I did not come here for another debate.”

He stopped just a few feet away from me.  Leaning against my door, in an attempt to look casual, I gave Hawke a look telling him to get on with it.  I didn’t altogether believe he wasn’t about to try and change my mind.

Copying my stance, lips ticking up, Hawke spoke again, “What was it Cole was saying just now?  About you moving on, and how it is what ‘they’ would have wanted.  It didn’t not sound like he was referring to those of us in Kirkwall.”

My eyes had shot back down, to look at the floor, as soon as he had said ‘moving on’.  I cursed, mentally, and tried to think of what to say.  We had come so far, it wouldn’t hurt to tell the truth.  But, the night before leaving for a huge battle was not the time to tell secrets as big as mine.  That, and I didn’t really want to have to explain it yet; I felt like my nerves would never reach a point where they would stop falling at the idea.  I didn’t want Hawke to reject me, or think differently of me.

“Cole meant…” I started to say, before pausing and taking a breath.  I looked back up at Hawke, and met his gaze.  “He was talkin’ ‘bout my family, back home.  He was jus’ sayin’ that it’d be alright, ya know?  If I, uh, let them go.  I guess.”

Hawke moved closer to me, and ran a hand up and down my arm as a gesture of comfort.  I caught his hand as it stopped on my bicep, folding my fingers over and just holding it.  He inched even more closer to me.

“Have you ever tried to find them?” he asked, in a quiet voice.  “I could ask Varric–”

I let out a laugh, a bit too harsh and completely unintentional.  I shook my head.

“Nah,” I said, making sure to be careful this time.  “It’s…it’s impossible.”

“On your own, yes,” he told me, insistently.  “But, with the help of others, you could very well find your family.  I bet the Inquisitor would help.  I know for a fact Varric will.  And so can I.”

I shook my head again, frustrated at my inability to explain.  There just wasn’t much of a way to explain, with telling the full truth.

“It’s complicated, Hawke,” I replied, pushing myself away from the door to my room so I was standing straight, pushing his hand off with an annoyed sigh.  “Leave it.  I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Hawke just stood there for a moment, and when he next spoke, there was anger in his voice.  It surprised me.

“You have a chance, a chance to find your family again, and you refuse to take it?  You won’t even try?” he said, confusion and frustration clear in his tone.  “I don’t understand.  Why wouldn’t anybody want to…”  He trailed off, turning his head away and shaking it.

I was silent for a second, before I forced myself to respond.

“I know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, and I can’t really explain it, but there isn’t a chance, Hawke,” I said, in a low voice, my eyes burning a hole into a spot right near his shoulder.  “Because then I would have to either choose between them or you.”

I cringed at my words, hadn’t even really meant to say them.  They just sort of slipped out.  I looked up when I felt him place both hands on my waist.  He stared me in the eyes, and I could see that what I had said surprised him.

“Come again?” he asked, faintly.  “I didn’t quite catch that.”

I huffed.

“Ugh, don’t look at me like that,” I said, trying to backtrack.  The air had suddenly gotten so thick around us; I felt trapped, like I couldn’t breathe.  My brain was telling me that I shouldn’t have said that.  It would just encourage him, and was that really alright for me to do?  Could I be there for him like that, like a lover, when in the past I couldn’t even be a good friend? 

All I can say for myself, and for the outpouring of words that came next, is that those were my thoughts as Hawke looked at me with such tender eyes that I almost had to gag.  Our moment in Josephine’s office was deep, and I hadn’t pushed Hawke away that time either.  I felt like I had to at least try and tell him why he shouldn’t care for me; or something self-deprecating like that.

“Like what?” he teased, hands resting on my lower back, making my stomach jump in a weird way.

“Like…like _that_ ,” I spat, knocking his hands away so I could take a step back.  “You shouldn’t – your face shouldn’t be doin’ that!”

Hawke looked at me with one unimpressed eyebrow raised.  “I was smiling at you, Fitz.  Not exactly the most unnatural expression to wear.”

“No, fuck,” I cursed, trying to calm down and failing.  I didn’t mean to sound angry at him, it’s just the way everything was coming out all wrong.  “You get that look in your eye…like you, fuckin’, I dunno–”

“Love you?” he asked, flatly. 

“Yeah,” I clung to his words, half marveling at them and half wishing he’d take them back.  “I don’t get you…you have to – you have to know that I’m not…”

“I can’t be that,” I said, as if I were pleading.  Pleading for him to come to his senses.  “Ya know, good for you and shit.  Fuck, Hawke.  I left you.  I left for eight years and I had no intention of ever comin’ back.  I didn’t even fuckin’ _write_.  Why would you even still…you should _hate_ me.  But you keep – ugh.”

Hawke grabbed my hand, a new habit he was slowly getting into, and pulled me close to him.  I resisted, forcing there to be space between us, but Hawke’s only goal was for me to look at him, and I did. 

“Stop that,” he told me, a frown heavy on his face.  “I already told you I could never hate you.  Fitz, I can’t even stay _mad_ at you.”  He bent his head down ever so slightly, making our eye level even.  I tried to interrupt, but he spoke over me, hand tightening over mine.  “I’m not asking you to be anything.  Just be Fitz.”

I scoffed, the sound coming out a bit wet, and I turned my head so he wouldn’t see the pain in my eyes. 

“You could do better,” I told him, voice going high as I tried to sound normal.  “Why don’t you–”

“Don’t,” he said, voice hard enough that I stopped talking immediately, sucking a breath in as if I might not have another chance to do so.  “Don’t insult me like that.  I spent nearly a decade loving you, and even if you don’t want to believe it, you’re the only one I want.”

“I don’t want to love another, and I never will.”  Hawke’s voice was impassioned, and I choked up. 

He moved closer to me, and even though I was staring at the ground, he didn’t try to make me look at him this time.  I felt it when he rested his chin on the top of my head, enveloping me in a hug that I didn’t deny.  I closed my eyes and leaned in.

“What do you say?” he asked me, his words slightly muffled as he uttered them into the curls of my hair. 

“Let me love you, faults and all, until you see that you’re not this unlovable monster that you like to portray yourself as?”

“That sounds nice,” I murmured, hesitantly putting my arms around his back as he pulled me closer, strong hands resting on my shoulders.  I felt like he was holding me up, keeping me above water, and I felt a wild urge to thank him.

“I’ll be with you always, if you’ll let me,” he said.  “You don’t even have to love me back.  I’ll just stick around as your roguishly handsome guardian.  Defending your honor, fighting by your side.  Whatever you want.”

“Hawke, I…”  My fingers curled into his shirt, and I pressed my face into his chest as I struggled to say something real.  “I want you to stay.  I…”

I pulled away, just enough to look at him properly, and tried to show him, rather than tell him what I was trying to get out.

I kissed Hawke in that darkened hallway, right outside my bedroom.  With shaking limbs, and awkward maneuvering, I tried to show him that I loved him, since the words refused to come out, and I could only hope that he felt it.  Despite all my words, I never wanted him to think that I didn’t love him just as much as he said he loved me; I physically couldn’t _not_ love him.  It just came so naturally and, for all my attempts at distance and denial, I knew now that I cared for him with an ache that brought more happiness than pain.  I can’t say for sure if one kiss of my own volition would say all that, and it might be dumb to think it would, but I guess I just kind of hoped it did.

Hawke knew me best.  I’m sure he heard what I couldn’t say.

~

I was bound to make a mistake.  It didn't exactly surprise me that I made one days before we even laid siege on the goddamn fortress; it just kind of figures, you know?

“So, Fitz,” a voice joined me by the firepit I’d claimed as mine own.  I had been blessedly alone, just me and my journal, before Alistair decided to wander over.  I paused to watched the man take a seat across from me.  “It seems you make it a habit of annoying people.  Hawke especially.”

There was humor in his voice, so I responded in kind. 

“It’s more of a hobby,” I said it as dryly as possible, grinning a little when the man laughed.

Hours before, I had pulled a rather death-defying feat that had everybody pissed at me.  We’d made it to the main camp, but those of us in Amrita’s small party had deviated somewhat from the rest of the troops.  We were only looking around, getting some air away from all those damn soldiers.

Then, a couple straggling Venatori jumped us.

It wouldn’t have been a big deal, they weren’t particularly strong, but then the mage in their group tried to throw a spell at Hawke and I forgot myself.

I jumped in front of it, okay?  I got to see Hawke’s eyes widen in utter terror, I got to hear exclaims from Varric and even a grunt from Bull as I threw myself in front of a most likely nasty as fuck magic spell.  I think I even heard the dying yell of the mage who had tried to get Hawke, but then the spell hit me, and I was fucking down.

I think I was more in shock than anything.  I’d never had a spell hit me like that, not even when Solas’ little shocking spells would feel like a hand-buzzer prank.  The force of it hit me full in the back, and I fell face-first in the dirt.  I don’t know what everyone was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good because I remember laying there in a stupor for what felt like a while, not moving.  But then, all at once, Hawke was hovering next to me.  He turned me over so that I was lying on my back; his hands brushing down my sides, checking for injuries.

“You blighted _idiot_ ,” he had spat, not even trying to hold back the anger in his voice.  “What in the Maker’s name were you even thinking?”

I groaned, but found I could sit up with Hawke’s arm held around my back.  Solas was kneeling next to me as well, his brow furrowed and lips pursed.  His eyes met mine, and held them for a second, before a glow took over his hand, and he made a show of healing me.  Or whatever.  Hawke was still talking.

“If Solas hadn’t been here to throw a damned shield over you, do you have any idea where you’d be right now?” he demanded, and I was surprised he was able to restrain himself from shaking me.

I couldn’t talk at first.  The feeling of magic was strong, and the way it hit my body had sent me mentally reeling; almost forcing me to go into one of my blanking spells, even though I hadn’t had one of those in a long time.  The feeling of it took my breath away and, for a moment, it even took away the headache I could never seem to get rid of.

“Fitz?  Are you listening to me?” Hawke was asking, worry beginning to tone down his anger.  “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” I croaked out, struggling to sit up higher.  Solas backed away, I guess his part done and over with.  Hawke kept his grip on me and didn’t let me stand.  “Yo, can I get up now?  I’m good.”

When I looked into his face, I found him staring at me with way too many emotions and guilt started to set in.

“Thanks, Solas,” I said, turning to face the elf rather than the upset man holding me.  “I’m good, yeah?”

“You are uninjured,” Solas said, though he was frowning.  “as far as I am able to tell.”

I almost scowled at the add-on, which I felt was kind of unnecessary, and turned back to Hawke.

“See? I’m fine,” I stressed, making sure to say it sincerely while also holding his gaze at the same time.

Hawke helped me stand, but he wasn’t done telling me off.

“Have you no sense of self-preservation?” he was saying, his grip on my shoulders tight as I reoriented myself to standing once again.  I felt wired for some reason, and I knew it had to do with magic.  I tried not to twitch, or shift around too much.  “You didn’t even try to block that spell.  Maker…you just _threw_ yourself–”

“Hawke, it was an accident, alright?” I interrupted him, thinking about how I couldn’t exactly say that I _was_ the block for that spell.  He wouldn’t take that well, and I so wasn’t about to explain something as big as all that shit just before some huge-ass battle.  “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking.  Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Hawke huffed in disbelief.  “Is that really all you’re going to say?”

“Well, what d’ya want me to say?” I snapped, shrugging him off and taking a few steps away from him in order to face him again.

“Oh, maybe just some reasoning,” he said, sarcastically.  “Like, how one could just ‘accidentally’ stumble into the path of an on-coming fireball.  And, how one could just shrug it off afterwards, as you are doing right now.”

For a second, I tensed up.  He had said ‘shrug it off’, and my mind immediately thought he meant it in a more literal manner; like how the magic had just slipped off of me, without any signs of effect.  But, then I realize he simply meant how I was attempting to not make this a big deal. 

“Don’t worry, I feel stupid as fuck, okay?  I know I fucked up,” I admitted, feeling my ears grow hot as I could feel everyone’s attention on me.  “Jesus Christ, it fuckin’ happens.  It woulda just hit you if I hadn’t been there.”

I swear Hawke’s eyes almost bulged, but then Amrita was speaking.  Thankfully.

“Hawke, please calm down.  Fitz is fine, and that’s all that matters,” she said, drawing nearer to us.  “We should head back to camp.  It will be dark soon.”

So, that’s the gist of it.  At least I didn’t faint or something, because then they wouldn’t even be letting me join the fight.  I’m not exactly sure how Alistair heard about this incident, but apparently one of those guys had big mouths.  Hawke might've been bitching, maybe even trying to convince Amrita to make me stay back.  I don't know, but he'll get over it.  He wasn't really that mad; I'd just really scared him with that stunt I pulled.  

I wasn’t avoiding him, or the others, either.  It was more like I was avoiding people on a whole.  I had stuff I needed to think about, and write down, and I did all that stuff better when I wasn’t worried about having people read over my shoulder.

Alistair kept talking to me, but only for a little bit.

“Ah, yes.  Being a nuisance.  A hobby I partake in as well!” the Grey Warden exclaimed.  “Although, I’m impressed.  I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Hawke irritated, let alone fuming.  He’s usually the one causing people to rip out their hair in anger…”

I shrugged, turning my attention back to the journal lying open in my lap.  “Yeah, well, that’s how special I am, ya know?  I could annoy a brick wall if you give me enough time.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

I threw him a look, and he shut up.  I don’t know how long we sat there, and I don’t know why Alistair decided to join me, except that maybe he wasn’t used to being around a lot of people after his stint of caveman living.  He probably figured I was least likely to talk to him, ask him questions and all that.  Whatever it was, I’m just glad he didn’t talk too much; he didn’t even ask what I was writing about. 

I had been busy writing in this journal when he sat down, and I still had a lot I wanted to get down on paper before the battle.  Just in case.

~

Truthfully, I’m in no shape to be here, about to lay siege on Adamant Fortress and all that jazz.  Even without the headaches, and the zoning problems, I probably wasn’t a good candidate for this particular mission.  I mean, I wasn’t spectacularly strong or skilled, or anything like that.  However, if I were to display some kind of defense for myself; I am pretty fast, magic most likely couldn’t kill me (hurt, maybe), and I could stab a bitch if needed.  I could hold my own in a fight, especially if there were others around to save my ass.  But, that’s the worst case, you know?  Shit, I didn’t train with Cassandra for nothing.

Still.  Adamant’s pretty daunting.

But it was a chance to show Hawke something.  We were on even levels; I wasn’t that scared kid anymore, not really, and I didn’t need Hawke to do all my fighting for me.  He needs to know that I don’t plan on leaving him again, that I was willing to work through my issues and actually _talk_ to him. 

The first time I ever told myself that I wanted to be with Hawke, I was eighteen and I’d just seen him lose his last real family member.  I told myself that I wanted to be there for him, for always.  And I didn’t do it.  I left not even a year later and didn’t look back for another seven.

This time though, I’m being real when I say that I want to be with Hawke forever.  It wasn’t going to be easy, but small steps, right?

I just had to show him that I could hold my own first.  I mean, if I’ve learned anything in Thedas, it’s that having someone’s back is a big thing.  And, fighting together?  You don’t get much closer than after saving a guy from getting his artery slit open.

Maybe if I show him just how much I’ve grown, how I can be by his side just like any of the others, maybe I won’t feel so unworthy anymore.  Maybe it won’t feel so wrong to move on a bit; you know, forget about all the shit I’ve done and just fully get on with it.  ‘It’ being life. 

I had to show myself all those things, too.  I needed to stop feeling the constant doubt and shit that felt so deeply ingrained in me as a person.  

I don’t know.  It sounds stupid, but it’s me and my feelings, so what the fuck. 

We raid Adamant tomorrow, and I’m honestly more than ready to get it over with.  Maybe even a bit excited, but that’s just because I haven’t gotten to physically fight a single thing for like five or so months.  It’ll be good to see some action again, I think.  My blanking episodes can go fuck themselves, because I’m _back_.

There’s not much else I have to add.  Or, at least, I can’t really think of anything else.  I should probably go to sleep, rest up and all that. 

I wish I had been able to get down more of my memories in this thing, like Solas had suggested ages ago.  It really helped recording all of this.  Though, it really wasn’t until I started dreaming that I began remembering more stuff.  It doesn’t really matter; I think I got a lot of my memories down.  Most of the important ones, anyways. 

Tomorrow: battle.  After that?  Probably try to get Hawke forgive me, and then talk to him.  Like, really _talk_ to him.  I’ve thought a lot about it, and I’m done hesitating.  I’m done with the whole keeping silent thing, the lying.  It’s messy, and it’s honestly just been way too long.  It's like the classic; lying makes everyone so much more complicated, and fucks everything up in the end.  It needs to stop.  When we get back to Skyhold, after all this Grey Warden bullshit, I’m going to tell Hawke.  And Varric, and maybe even Solas.  We’ll see how I feel.

But, for real.  I’m making a promise right now.  I’m writing it down, explicitly, so now I got to go through with it; like it's a binding contract and all that shit.

When this fuckery at Adamant’s done and over with, I’m telling Hawke everything.  Like, from start to finish.  Nothing left out.

And I’ll finally tell him I love him.

There.  No going back now.

Wish me luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all are ready.  
> I'm on spring break, so I'm planning on getting a lot of writing done! (I still have midterms to write...but shh)
> 
> and great news!! [happysnowdragon drew some absolutely adorable fanart of Fitz](http://imgur.com/a/CBpet) (seriously its amazing, and so so cute! & thank you again)


	48. Act II: A Fitz in the Fade

An hour before the fight truly began, I sat at the edges of the camp with some other scouts; just listening in on their conversations, not really participating.  Hawke and I were going to sneak onto the battlements with a small scouting party, where we would eventually help the Inquisition’s soldiers gain a foothold on the ramparts.  It meant we’d be leaving before Amrita and her group, but I was glad of it.  Waiting around was awful.

“Ah, you’re already here,” a familiar voice said from above me, and I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.  Laying a hand on my hair, Hawke went on, “And here I was, all prepared to go looking for you.”

“Oh, hey,” I said, tilting my head up to meet his eyes.  Hawke grinned at me for a second, before he dropped down to sit beside me.  I smiled back, perhaps a bit more subdued, even as his hand stayed in my hair, ruffling it lightly.  “How’s it goin’?”

“Got the last orders from our illustrious leaders,” he said, with grandeur, and his hand slipped down to rub circles into the short hairs that lay on the base of my neck.  “Hope you’re ready to work with some soldiers.  We won’t be joining the Inquisitor until much later, I’m afraid.”

“When?” I asked, trying not to bite my lip with worry.  “How’s she gettin’ in?”

Hawke went back to ruffling my hair, with more vigor, as if he were attempting to shake out my anxieties.

“Don’t you worry about her,” he said, still smiling.  He leaned his face in more, catching my eye and holding it.  “In a proper fight like this, you should always think of yourself first.  Don’t let your mind wander, or you’ll find yourself with a sword through your gut in no time.”

I scowled at him, and knocked his hand off my head.  “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cuz you’re worried ‘bout _me_.  What happened to teamwork, and lookin’ out for each other?”

Hawke pretended to look offended.  “Of course, teamwork is everything.  However,” he interjected his words to send a quick flick of his index finger at my ear, making me twitch.  “when you have a wandering mind, such as you do, it is best if you keep to task.  And by that, I mean one task, not many.”

“Got it,” I said dryly, not having the will to start a fight over his picking at my attention problems.  “So, just making sure – when a guy’s comin’ at me with a giant fuckin’ sword, I _shouldn’t_ be thinkin’ about what I’ll be havin’ for dinner tonight?”  I asked him like I was truly wondering it, adding a slightly confused lilt to my voice that had Hawke pushing me in retaliation.

“Ha, ha.” Hawke rolled his eyes, and I laughed. 

“But, Fitz.  Seriously.”

I looked over at him again, since his tone was serious all of a sudden.  His eyes were just as intense, and I tried not to make a face.  Instead, I made the effort to copy his grave expression.

“Be careful out there.  And, I’m _begging_ you,” he said to me, grabbing up my hand in his and entwining our fingers together.  “Do not leave my side.  I simply won’t forgive you if you get yourself lost up there.  And I absolutely will not let you forget about it either.  If you do happen to get lost, that is.”

I grinned, a little.  I was thankful for the gentle attempt to lighten the mood, but I heard the undercurrent of tension in his voice anyways. 

“Um, for your information, my sense of direction is great,” I replied, widening my grin.  “Besides, could probably see your fat head a mile away.”

“Oh – ho!  We think we’re funny now, do we?” Hawke laughed, abandoning the handholding in order to deliver a headlock instead.  I elbowed him, forgetting we both had actual armor on and making this rather grating sound that had a few scouts turning to look at us.  I heard one of them laugh, and knew it was because my hair was already a mess.

“Ya know,” I started to say, as I pushed Hawke’s hands off and went about fixing myself.  “The hair thing’s gonna get old fast.”

He smirked back at me with raised eyebrows. 

“I don’t know about that,” he said, as he were pondering over something more meaningful than how apt my hair was for flying in all direction.  “I’ve always found it so very amusing.  It’s all about the way you hurry to tame it.”

“Hah, and not about the way you make me look like a complete idiot?”

“What are you talking about?  You always look like an idiot.”

“Pfft,” I let out, issuing a dramatic glance over at the man currently trying to roast me.  “Says the guy who forgot to lace up his trousers…”

I laughed, a bit uproariously, when Hawke actually looked down to check.

It was nice, being able to joke around right before going into some huge fight.  Made me forget my nerves a little.  But, my nerves and fears didn’t mean that I was regretting coming here.  I had to be here with Hawke, and I wanted to be by his side through it all.

~

Right before we were to begin the siege, Hawke caught me up in a quick, but intense, embrace.

Lips hovering over mine, our eyes staring into each other, Hawke spoke to me in a low voice, quiet enough that others couldn’t overhear.  Not that it mattered.

“I’ve got your back.”

“Uh, same,” I breathed, and he leaned in for a kiss that I gladly accepted.

Then, we were heading for the battlements, and I had to focus on fighting some jerks with swords and a demon army, rather than on the small smile that graced Hawke’s face when we pulled apart; a smile so happy, it softened all of his features in a way that shouldn’t be possible. 

Even when we were finally on the ramparts, and I was actively fighting people attempting to kill me, I could still feel the slight prickle of his beard against my face, and the force of his lips as they pressed against mine. 

Hawke warned me not wander, but the only thing those memories ended up doing was make me fight harder.

~

“Hashtag, bitchin’,” I called out, as the last of our enemies either fell or ran away.  I watched one guy leg it in the opposite direction as I wiped the last of the blood from my daggers.  I was reasonably sure that our goal wasn’t to kill every Warden on sight, so I decided to just go with the flow and let the quitters retreat like sensible beings. 

“Must you,” Hawke started, panting, as he caught up to me.  “Must you really yell nonsensical phrases at the enemy?”

“You’re right,” I said, in mock thought.  “I bet nobody says hashtag anymore.”

Hawke pushed me, and I didn’t miss the quick glance over as he made sure I was unhurt, even as he grinned and rolled his eyes.

“Typical,” he said, turning his attentions elsewhere; like on the long rampart we were stood on, the one that was littered with dead demon shit and some dead people as well.  “Please, don’t explain.”

“Oh,” I said back, mockingly; dodging the absentminded hand that aimed a swat at my head.  “That was sarcast – agh, ow.”

I didn’t retaliate, partially because I could tell that Hawke was actually more focused on moving ahead, and not on joking around.  He started walking forward, waving at some of the Inquisition soldiers we’d been fighting alongside of.  This area might have been won by our guys, but who knows what hellspawn might come up.  Hawke seemed to think our work was done in this area though, so I trusted his judgement easily.

Hawke gestured for me to follow.  “Come along.  Our darling Inquisitor has ordered us to clear the battlements and, in case you haven’t noticed, we have a long way to go.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, as I followed him regardless.  “She should’ve met up with us by now.  I bet we got all the hard work.”

Hawke snorted, and shook his head.  “Yes.  I’m sure the others are not dealing with anything such as what we have.  Because we are not in the same place, whatsoever.  Ah, in fact, I am quite certain I heard Bull say they were going to a _tea party_ this afternoon.”

“Um, okay.  Uncalled for.”

Where there should have been tall walls of stone blocking us into a wide walkway, there was just air in most parts.  Half of walls lining the battlements had been like that when we arrived, and I doubted the place looked much different before the Wardens even dug into this damned fortress.  The whole thing was old as fuck, and probably would’ve been hella creepy if it were empty; like totally void of all the people and shit.  I could see this place being haunted, and I was almost glad for the loud sounds of fighting that sort of broke the sinister-like air that seemed to be natural for many of these ancient fortresses in this world.  Made me jumpy.

We didn’t get to keep talking, because just then we made it around a bend in the battlements, and totally walked into a whole nother shitshow that was eerily similar to the one we’d literally just finished.  Instead of seeing friendly Inquisition faces, we were greeted by the sight of a group of Grey Warden mages calling forth just another unholy motherfucker of a demon.  As luck would have it, the demon turned out to be one of those big ugly guys that kind of look like mountain trolls, or a mutant lizard or something.

“Ah, don’t you just love blood magic?” Hawke nearly spat, seeming completely unsurprised and jaded at the sight.  I barked out a laugh.

“Shit yeah.  Brings back such great memories,” I yelled back, as we moved out to go on the offense.

Circling the group of baddies, I stuck to aiming for the mages.  So long as I stayed out of their sight, I was able to sneak up on them and deliver a nice knife to the gut before they even realized someone had totally broken through their wards.  The demons they summoned, as per usual, paid me absolutely no mind so they were summarily taken care of by the combine efforts of Hawke and none other than Amrita’s group, who had actually arrived right around the same time as we did.  Speak of the devil, right?

Hawke killed the mountain troll by using this rather impressive move that involved jumping on the thing’s goddamn back, which was pretty ballsy if you ask me.  I watched as he slid off the crumpling monster, and as soon as his feet his solid ground, Hawke was wheeling around to face me.  The disbelief on his face bordered on insulting.

“Nice work, Fitz,” he said, looking around us, at the four mages I’d downed while the others went to work on the demons.  “Did you really do all this?”

I scowled, as his voice held just as much astonishment as the expression on his face.

“What?  I stabbed them, let it go,” I grumbled, with a shrug.  Hawke just raised his eyebrows up higher.  Hawke opened his mouth, but we had bigger matters to attend to.

Amrita cut into our side-chat quickly, and I could immediately see how completely focused she was on this mission.  It was rather amazing how much like a soldier she resembled; like a higher-up one, because she took lead under pressure pretty damn well. 

“Hawke, Fitz,” she caught our attentions with a curt voice, already moving away from our secured point.  “Join us, will you?  We have to clear the battlements!  Fast!”

We wasted no time in following her, and all it did was bring us to yet another round with some blood mages and a horde of demons.  This time, Varric joined us in exchanging commiserating looks.  Fucking blood magic.

It was insane just how much everyone seemed to have lost it.  My brain was reprimanding me, telling me just how stupid I was for not having paid more attention when the others tried to clue me in on what the fuck was going down here.  So far, I only knew that the Grey Wardens were summoning a demon army, to do god knows what, and it was all for that ugly red guy from Haven.  My mind was itching, and I could feel more connections trying to make their way to the forefront of my thoughts, but I didn’t have the time to fully pay attention to them.  For now, my focus had to be on the fight going on at this very moment, not on the intricacies of some evil motherfucker’s plans for mayhem and destruction. 

The fight was harder than the last, and it brought me back to a long time ago, when I had just joined the Inquisition and hadn’t even made it to Haven for the first time yet.  I had spent those weeks with Amrita and I remember well just how much I had to be conscious of my movements when I was fighting in a group, after spending so much time on my own. 

It helped, I suppose, that my resistance to magic was waning, but it still wasn’t enough.  The spells being knocked around by these people should’ve been strong enough to decimate me and yet being hit by one only felt like a punch.  I felt myself take no less than three hits, which is a worryingly high number, and I knew I had to step up the evasion tactics.  The fight was crazy enough that nobody really noticed.  It also helped that I hadn’t been hit with a fucking firestorm of magic, because that would’ve been pretty fucking obvious, yeah? 

With the mages all down, the spells finally stopped flinging around like we were in a goddamn pinball machine and I nearly dropped with relieve.  However, there were still demons to contend with.  Vicious ones.

I hesitated.  I knew I had to help out, but it was kind of hard when I also had to hide the fact that demons didn’t freaking see me.  Experience taught me that demons would either turn the other way, or slide around me, as if I were some invisible brick wall.  It was weird, and would probably be disconcerting if anybody with an eye for patterns were about.  And, as my luck would have it, I was with a handful of people with just that talent, and that’s not even including the people who know about my situation. 

But, I also couldn’t just stand there.  I forced my way into this, so I had to do _something_.

I went with the sneaky route.  Luckily, I only had to backstab one or two demons before the fight was actually over.  The guys I was with were (unsurprisingly) efficient. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” I said, panting, my hands on my knees.  “What gives with these damn mages?  Buncha fuckin’–”

“We have to move on,” Amrita called out, urgently.  She probably hadn’t even registered that I was complaining, but it wasn’t important anyways.  We all started to head away from the remnants of our last fight; Amrita was leading us to a large staircase, and I knew the next step to our mission was about to begin.  Didn’t stop me from muttering under my breath the entire way though.

“Yeah, cool, it’s just like, ‘hey, let’s call up our good pal _Satan_.  I mean, found his number in a sketchy as fuck bathroom stall, but what the shit.  Good idea!’.  Seriously, in what world does that sound like a solid plan?”

“In what world do those _sentences_ actually make sense?” Bull called, from not too far behind me.  I threw back a quick glance at the guy, only to see him looking right back at me, raised brow and all.  I grinned.

“Where’d I lose ya?” I asked, perhaps a bit obnoxiously.  “At Satan, or–”

Hawke planted a hand between my shoulder blades, and pushed me along.  I hadn’t noticed I’d been lagging.

“Complain later, perhaps even explain what half of that meant, if you are so inclined,” he told me, still pushing me forward.  “For now, keep your wits about you.”

I grumbled, but then his hand left me and he was walking just a step or two ahead of me.  I did stop complaining, but that was just because Hawke had sounded so tense. 

The stairs ended in an open hallway that led us to a giant door, which was nothing new since this entire goddamn fortress was full of giant doors, and we all but ran for it.  It was like we were being timed all of a sudden, though I suppose we were always on a time crunch.  I couldn’t help but remember one of the last times I joined Amrita on a mission, back when we claimed Suledin Keep in Emprise, and I hoped dearly that there were no mega-sentient demons around.  I didn’t need another mouthy demon making fun of my virginity or something; the little guys were bad enough.

The scene that followed was some pretty tense shit.  Those giant doors had opened up to another staircase, which overlooked another fucked up bunch of Wardens.  So, it ended up being the seven of us on one side, and then even more Wardens on the opposite side of the room.  It was easy to tell that we showed up right in the middle of another goddamn blood ritual.  They also had this guy with them, some smarmy fuck, and he tried pretty hard to get the Wardens to attack us on sight, but then it was just all shouting back and forth.

Amrita tried, somewhat vainly, to convince the Wardens to give it up; to stop the unnecessary bloodshed.  It wasn’t until Alistair chimed in with a ‘Corypheus’ mention that the main Warden leader finally stopped to listen.  But, of course, it didn’t work out in the end.

And, you know, it was all fine and confusing enough as it was, but then the smarmy guy had to go and call a fucking dragon.  And I’m not talking any dragon, I’m saying the same ugly fucker from the night Haven was destroyed. 

I didn’t have any time to worry about people seeing my demon-repelling abilities during this fight, since the Wardens did indeed go through with their fucking ritual and summoned another demon horde.  I used it to my advantage, and trusted that the craziness of the fight would deter anybody was commenting, if they even noticed.  I may have also tried to convince myself that no one would notice in the first place, just to make me feel a bit easier about the whole thing (you know, like selective listening and shit).

We didn’t stop to even catch our breaths when that fight was done.  We chased after the smarmy guy and the Warden leader (both of whom I hadn’t caught the names of), because they had both booked it after the whole dragon thing; conveniently leaving us to deal with the demons.  That damn dragon stayed right on our tail the whole time.

We were racing up the fortress, basically running around on the tippy-top of the goddamn thing when we finally caught up with the two assholes who started this shitshow. 

Then, it got even worse.

We were on what was basically the roof of Adamant Fortress, and what a long and wide stretch of building it was too.  The two people we were chasing were all the way on the opposite side from where the staircase brought us, and they were moving towards the very end of the roof, near the ledge.  We ran for them and we were all sore and out of breath, though adrenaline kept us going.

I screamed when the dragon literally swooped in, just as we arrived, and proceeded to pick up the Warden like she was a fucking chew-toy.  And then I cringed when it spat her out again.  Her body made this awful sound as it slammed against the stone floor, and she rolled a few times before she finally stopped moving.  The smarmy guy was already on the ground, and I think he was actually down for the count, but we didn’t really get the fucking chance to check.

I was close to bugging out, and I was cursing out loud the whole time, but Hawke was by my side, had never left it, so I suppose it could have been worse.  The whole situation was fucked.  The dragon had somehow managed to totally dupe us into trapping ourselves.  The thing had flown over us, when it still had the Warden in its mouth, and after getting rid of its chew-toy, it made its descent on one of the many stone towers that surrounded us.  Then, it fucking blocked our only viable exit; its fat ass standing right in front of the archway we had entered through, cutting us off from the rest of the fortress.  We only had a ledge to back up to, and an insane death-ensuring drop should we decide not to become dragon food.

The others were gearing up for a fight, but I had never factored in a fucking dragon, especially not the same one whose fire had nearly killed me a while back. 

It turned out we didn’t need to do a damn thing to the dragon.  The Warden apparently still had some life left in her, because she let out this unholy wave of power, just as the dragon came to stand over her as it made its way towards us. 

I heard a screech, one that seared its way into my ear drums, and then all hell broke loose.

It was an old fortress, we all knew that, but I guess I hadn’t really expected the whole thing to start crumbling with us on it.  The walls, some towers, sure.  But, the fucking stone we were standing on?  Shit, it was all I could to do keep myself upright, everything was happening so fast.

Then, we were falling, and Hawke was reaching out for me, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing mine.  At the same time, this green light engulfed us, but I only got to see it for a second, because, just as suddenly, I was out like a fucking light.

~~~~~~~

“Fitz?  Where’s Fitz?”

I came to, groggily connecting the urgent shouts to Hawke as I was too busy being in pain to do much else.  I couldn’t even move.

I couldn’t open my eyes.  I tried that, and it _burned_.  Everything was too bright, and too loud.  Loud in the bright way.  That doesn’t even make sense…it felt like colors had sound on top of being brighter than the sun.  There was no other way to describe it, except to say that it was all too much for me to handle. 

I was laid out on the ground, of wherever we were, with my eyes screwed shut.  I felt it, almost too strongly, when someone dropped down next to me.

Solas’ low tones brought me out of whatever zone I was in, even though it was directed to the others.

“He’s right here.  I am with him.”  I felt him lean over, bringing one cool hand up to touch my face.  I groaned then, and tried to move away.  Solas held firm, and pressed his hand to my cheek.

“Burning,” he whispered, and I just barely heard him.  I agreed though, I felt feverish in a way I’d never felt before.

In a louder voice, steady and calm like always, Solas asked, “Fitz, can you hear me?”

I couldn’t move, not without hurting, so I let out a weak huff of breath.  It was the most I could manage.  He took that as the affirmative, thankfully.

“Can you open your eyes?”  I wanted to laugh at that, but I didn’t say anything.  I wanted to ask him where Hawke was, where _we_ were, but it was all the same.  I didn’t have the strength.

Solas tried to heal me after that, or he tried to do something magical to me.  I could feel it; it was like agony, and I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat.

“Stop!  What are you doing to him?”  I heard Hawke scream at the elf hovering over me, and I could hear his attempt to approach us.  “Let go of him!”

“Forgive me, lethallin.  It will be over soon,” Solas whispered when I took a ragged breath, cutting my scream off.

“Solas?” Amrita called, sounding worried.  “What’s going on?”

“It’s the Fade,” the elf replied, still working on me.  Stabilizing me as far as I could tell; the pain was slowly being numbed down.  Thank god.  “He’s having a bad…reaction, I suppose you could say.  It happens to some, even in dreams.  This is worse, particularly since he is not meant to physically walk the Fade to begin with.”

I was able to choke out a laugh this time.  Solas was making everything feel a little less searing, and I could actually feel myself cooling down. 

“Kid, the laughing is creepy.”  Bull’s nervous comment met my ears, sounding very far away even though I could tell he was speaking in a normal tone.

“Hawke, calm it,” Varric was telling the man, who was still struggling to get close to me.  “Look, whatever Chuckles is doing, it’s working.”

“I’ll see that for myself,” Hawke snarled, but before he could break Varric’s hold (and I assumed Bull was helping as well), Solas was done.

“I need a cloth, preferably something sheer,” the elf asked, in a commanding tone.  “I suspect it will be harmful, should Fitz attempt to open his eyes without some form of barrier.  A barrier, no matter how thin, is needed in order to protect his eyes from the natural state of the Fade.”

I heard something rip, and someone, probably Amrita, shuffle closer.  Then, someone was lifting my head slightly, tying the proffered cloth around my head.  I whined a little bit about the movement.  I still hurt all over.

“Will he be alright?” Alistair asked, sounding hesitant.  I couldn’t tell where any of the others were; whenever they spoke, it sounded like their voices were being thrown far and wide.  It creeped me the fuck out.

“Yes,” Solas answered, helping me stand up despite my protests.  “Once his body acclimates, he may even feel normal again.”

“Oh, promising,” I grit out, finally opening my eyes.  The cloth helped; I didn’t feel the overwhelming need to slam my eyelids together and I didn’t feel any more pain than what I was already experiencing.  I could see out, hazy shapes from far away and better quality up close.  It would have to do.  “Say, Solas, how would you define normal?  Minimal amounts of chronic pain, or only a few moments of–” 

“Fitz, you arsehole.”  Finally released from Varric and Bull’s hold, Hawke came at me with an urgency that had me stumbling back, in case he tried to hug me.  He didn’t; he stopped barely an inch away from touching me, and his hands hovered over me as if it pained him to hold back.  I could just slightly make out his expression through my sheer-blindfold, and it looked like his face was warring between anger and worry.  I think he settled for outraged concern.

“I _told_ you,” he said, bringing me back before I zoned out again.  I struggled to stay focused, my ability to pay attention seemed to have weakened even more after our nose-dive into the goddamn Fade.  “I told you, you shouldn’t have come.”

“Too late, man,”  I muttered back, reaching out one hand to pat him on the arm.  He tensed at my touch.  “Tell me ‘bout it later, yeah?  When I’m not ‘bout to keel over.”

“Don’t even joke,” he said, in a strangled voice, bringing up a hand to cover the one I’d unintentionally rested on his bicep.  I forgot to pull it back, and then Hawke was holding my hand in his gentle grasp. 

“We have to move,” Alistair’s voice broke through our staring, bringing all of our minds back to task.  “I don’t really wish to be standing around, idle, in a place like this.  Do you?”

Everyone agreed unanimously, of course.  We’d escaped the dragon from hell, only to jump right into the fucking Fade, and it was definitely better to get out sooner rather than later.  Who knows what was happening on the other side; how the Inquisition was faring while we were stuck in here.  It could be really bad.

Solas made sure to warn us that the demon in charge of this section of Fade, the one that we were currently standing in, was most likely extremely strong.  No pressure or anything, though. 

~

“I say we all get fucked up after this,” I declared to the world, still wearing a cloth over my face like it was a damn veil.  I also felt a bit high, like strung out and loopy beyond belief.  I choked back a giggle as I went on, leaning on Hawke as if it were my choice, and not because the guy was physically holding me up.  “Shit, man.  Does anyone else feel high as fuck right now?  No?  Just me?”

When no one answered me right away, I turned my head a little to look at Hawke.  “G?”

Hawke sighed.  “Solas?  Are you sure he’s alright?”

The elf was walking ahead of us, alongside Amrita at the forefront of our little troupe.  At Hawke’s call, he left her to inspect me.  I twitched closer to Hawke as Solas waved a hand over me.  We were still walking, to god knows where, so there was not much else that Solas could do to check me out.

“Fitz, how does your head feel?” he asked, peering closely at me.  I could feel a sloppy grin working its way up my face, and I didn’t really notice when I tripped over my feet, mostly because Hawke still had a firm grip on me.

“We’re in a fuck damn swamp, bro,” I said, trying to wave my arms around to showcase the fuckery that was our current situation.  My movements were still sore, but the pain wasn’t aching in that bone-deep sort of way anymore.  I wasn’t questioning it.  “A magical, demon-infested swamp.  Oh, _shit_ , _fuckin_ ' - Aw, man, I don’t wanna fight Shrek.  Like, what the fuc-”

Hawke’s arm was around my waist, and I felt it dimly when he squeezed, which I believe was unintentional on his part.  Solas ignored my words.

“Fitz.  Your head.”

“Huh?” I wracked my brain, and it clicked not even a second later.  I grinned even wider than before, completely forgetting about my moment of terror as I imagined having to duke it out with a Fade spawned ogre.  “Yo, man, you won’t friggin’ believe it!  My head’s fine!  Which is fucked, ya know.  ‘Cuz, magic.”

I hadn’t noticed how close Varric was to us, and I jumped when he actually spoke.

“What do you mean by that, Scholar?”

“Magic.  Fucks with my head big time, man,” I said, without a care.  I couldn’t even stop myself as I turned sincere, and just kept talking.  “Fuckin’ not right.  Impossible.”

“Impossible?” Hawke asked, and he didn’t have to encourage me.  I was enthusiastic as I answered.

“Yeah!  Like, ‘not real’ impossible!” I exclaimed, somehow finding the energy to straighten myself out of the slouch I’d been in.  I felt like a rollercoaster; constantly fluctuating between exhausted to energized.  It was a weird experience, and I just knew it had a lot to do with my sudden onslaught of words.  “Shouldn’t even be able to touch me, but fuckin’ look at me now.  I am _so_ fucked.”

“I don’t think he knows what he is saying,” Amrita broke in, quickly once I delved into laughing rather than talking.  She didn’t give anyone a chance to say anything else.  “Look!  Ahead of us!”

I had this whole internal battle going on, making it hard to focus on all that was happening around us (story of my life), and it left me unable to actually fight.  A few demons jumped us, and Hawke hastily propped me up against a rocky wall and told me to take cover.  I made no moves to do so, for obvious reasons, and just stood there leaning against the wall as I willed myself to come back down from whatever cloud had me wigging out.

‘ _It's like Solas said,_ ’ I thought, ‘ _you’re just acclimating or whatever.  Now acclimate faster, goddammit._ ’

My daggers had somehow made their way back to the special holders that were strapped across my back, and I’m sure I had one of the others to thank for that.  I usually kept my weapons on my belt, but Hawke had insisted I wear specialized armor today; a kind which apparently did not account for hip-located weapon placement.  I didn’t mind, but wearing my daggers on my back had made me nearly forget about them. 

I held them now, and I think the feel of their hilts in my palms helped me to come down even more from the high I had been feeling since we’d begun walking through the Fade.  The fighting going on right next to me also helped; it brought realness back.  We still had more to do, we had to get out of here, and I couldn’t be useful if I was acting like some loopy bastard. 

I wasn’t acting so weird when we met with the spirit, who I took to be a good guy by the reactions of the others.  Amrita greeted her as the Divine, the one who died at the Conclave, but I thought she just looked like any other chantry mother.  I shrugged it off though; I didn’t even know what the Divine looked like, so what the hell.

The Divine spirit talked loops around Amrita’s questions; the only real thing she said had to do with the demon waiting for us.  The one Solas had already sort of warned us about, although it was a vague assumptive warning.

A Fear demon, a Nightmare demon; I was fucking ecstatic.  Sounds like a grand old time.  You know, until it starts talking shit at us from out of nowhere.  Like, literally, we couldn’t even see the motherfucker.

It picked us off one by one, giving us creepy little insights into each of our individual fears.  I was walking fine on my own now, though Hawke kept close by my side anyway.  It held off on speaking to me, but I just wrote it off as being due to my special circumstances.  I was relieved, because some of the shit this thing was saying was pretty damn fucked up and I so didn’t want to be on the receiving end.  It was like if Cole were to ever somehow go darkside and spill everyone’s deepest darkest secrets, while also pulling at their insecurities on top of it all.  It was a scary thought, and I wish I hadn’t thought it. 

Thankfully, the more we walked, the more able I became.  As we continued to follow the path the Divine spirit laid out for us, I was actually able to contribute to getting rid of the demon underlings that attempted to waylay us.  It was nice timing too, because we also certainly ran into a lot of those bastards along the way.  The damn thing was really trying to slow us down, but we were doing a pretty good job at fighting it. 

It couldn’t stop Amrita from getting her memories back; the ones it had stolen.  Couldn’t stop us from piecing together its relation to the red guy either, whom I’m pretty sure I heard Sera call ‘Coryphe-tits’ once, which is totally an improvement to the dude’s real name. 

The Nightmare also wasn’t able to stop us from getting closer and closer to the rift that we could all see hanging in the sky, even though it still seemed to be quite a distance away from us.

The Fade was weird.  I felt like I was floating half the time, a lot like how all the objects around us seemed to be doing.  There were rocks, boulders really, just hanging in the sky like a glitch in the system and sometimes we would pass by weirder stuff that was just floating about.  I swear I saw a floating teddy bear, which was creepy enough and I didn’t look closely.  After Amrita picked up a piece of paper that seemed to be written in blood, I didn’t want to go looking at anything.

I was more weirded out by my lack of pain, especially when I compared it to the sheer agony I had been in upon waking in this fucking place.  Whatever Solas did to me worked, and it worked _wonderfully_.  Like, at levels where magic shouldn’t be able to work on me.  My subconscious told me that magic could definitely hurt me now; maybe even fuck me up, so I could probably kick all my doubts out the door. 

I felt it in my gut, just how much I didn’t belong here.  I couldn’t tell if the others felt similar, but I know I felt like I wasn’t truly there.  I felt outside of myself; out of body, not quite out of mind.  But, I didn’t feel weak.  Like I said, it was weird.

However, it all made me think too.  Like about why magic couldn’t work on me, or at least why it hadn’t been able to for such a long time.  I always chalked up my natural resistance to being a product of living in a world where magic, and the Fade, never existed.  But, if that were true, would it even be possible for my resistance to be broken?  Cole had said things before, things that I disregarded, but now I wasn’t so sure.  What’s more is, I couldn’t help but wonder at my weird relationship with demons as well (and spirits too, I guess).  My mind was making connections, weak ones, but I was seriously in no position to be making theories.  I needed to sit down with some of my notes and then I could think.  However, the Fade wasn’t a good place to be thinking all this shit, especially not when we had a meglo-maniac demon on our asses.  

Now wasn’t the time, nor the place, to get my brain working in hyper-mode.

So, when I dropped one of my daggers during a fight, and sank my fist into the side of a demon on reflex, I only grimaced when the thing deteriorated as soon as my fist broke through its skin, or whatever the fuck it’s called.  Since I did have a dagger in my other hand, an obvious vanquisher of demons, no one seemed to see anything out of the normal.  Though, I’m sure if they knew that it was one punch that did the demon in…I’m sure it would have been different.

I didn’t say anything.

~

“You don’t have a grave.”

I tilted my head only slightly, acknowledging Hawke’s words as I thought about it.  I was glad; I didn’t need my worst fear written across a headstone for this lot to see. 

“Huh, bastard must’ve forgot about me,” I said, carelessly.  I felt Hawke shift next to me; I went on before he could talk again.  “You don’t got one either.”

“I’m not close to the Inquisitor, now am I?” was his dry answer.  He had a point, but I refused to give it to him.

“Shouldn’t we be, like, moving on?  Not staring at this sick display of morbidity like a buncha losers?”  I pitched my voice, addressing all of our group; and my words seemed to break the subdued atmosphere that had fallen when we’d all realized what exactly we were looking at.

“Losers?” Alistair questioned, and I think he was about to quip back, but Amrita spoke over him.

“Fitz is right.  Let’s go.”

Hawke didn’t ask me about the grave anymore, but I could tell he was wondering over it.

~

I was sort of glad for the sheer cloth covering my face; it at least somewhat hid my expression when the demon decided to call me out.

~

It didn’t immediately go for me.

“When has anything you ever done mattered?  Kirkwall burned because of you,” the Nightmare said, having already laid into all of our other friends. 

There was only Hawke left to torment.

“Your friends all leave because of you, just as your family died because of you.  You’re a failure, and your family died knowing it.”

“OI!” I yelled, unable to keep quiet.  “Stuff it up your fuckin’ ass, Mufasa!  I don’t care how strong you are, I’ll bash your fuckin’–”

“Oh, and what is this?” the Nightmare’s voice rumbled over us like seriously fucked up thunder, and I tensed up out of the inherent fear the deep voice inspired.  I didn’t expect it to interrupt me and, for a split second, I wondered whether it was addressing me.  Even then, I didn’t quite believe it.  “How could I have missed _you_?”

It said those words, and I froze.  I knew immediately, without a doubt, that it was talking to me, and I felt my eyes go wide in shock.  Demons weren’t supposed _see_ me, never had before.  The demons we’ve been fighting this entire time couldn’t see me.  Even the Divine spirit hadn’t so much as looked at me since it first began guiding us around the Fade.

“A little lost thing, roaming where it does not belong?  It would make a most excellent study, I think.”

“Tell me, creature,” it said, speaking solely to me now, sounding like it was putting a great deal of focus on actually _seeing_ me, and it was _succeeding_.  My fingers began to shake as the curiosity in its tone was overbearing.  “How did you come to be?  You are so very far from home, I can hear it in your _blood_.”

I felt the stares, but nobody stopped walking or said anything; we all kept on heading in the direction the Divine spirit was leading us.  I did, however, grimly wish that I was still flying high as a kite; at least then I might have found the whole thing funny.  But, as it was, I was feeling completely and utterly coherent, though the lack of a headache was a weird sensation in and of itself.  I felt normal though, and my mind felt very clear; for the first time, in a long time.

“Fitz?”

Hawke was reaching out to me, but the nightmare was still talking.

“You would do well here,” it was telling me, still so fucking loud.  “It is not every day that I get to meet new creatures.  I wonder what kind of stories I could get out of you.”

I shuddered, and then Hawke was holding onto me; angling his body in a protective stance, glaring out and around at the omnipresent voice currently harassing me like a pervert, even though we still had no idea where this thing was.

“Over my dead body, you – you blighted sack of shit!” he shouted to the air, angry and defiant; all the emotions I was feeling, though I couldn’t seem to get my vocal cords working.

The nightmare stopped talking after that, and I breathed easier, especially once we came upon the much nicer Divine spirit again.

“Thank you,” I whispered, leaning my head against Hawke’s chest, though I was slightly obstructed by the heavy armor he wore.  His arm, slung around my shoulders, squeezed and I felt him drop a kiss onto the top of my head.  I was glad he said nothing, because I honestly had no idea what to say.

~

When I took the cloth off of my face, my vision didn’t sear and absolutely nothing happened.  The Fade, while slightly clearer than under that flimsy piece of cloth, was still blurry in that weird, dream-like way.  But it still looked real.

I felt kind of strong.  I didn’t feel anything like how it had been when I woke up here, and there was still no sign of a headache on the horizon.  I couldn’t tell what it meant, not exactly, but I wondered if it would stay like that.  When I returned to a solid world.

No person belonged in the Fade, I could tell that much.  And it made me feel distinctly uncomfortable, when I would look around at the others and see that none of them were looking oddly rejuvenated and healthy.  All of them showed the same signs as anybody over-exerting themselves, just trying to survive this hell of a situation.  They looked tired, and overall spent.  It was to be expected; not only had we just been in the middle of a real fucking battle, but we were fighting demons after demons while traversing some metaphysical realm made up of whatever the fuck.  It was natural to be tired. 

But, I didn’t feel it anymore.  In the beginning, I was exhausted, but my body seemed to have just magically gotten over it.  I wanted to blame adrenaline, or something, because it was just too fucking weird otherwise.

~

“Fitz, go through.  _Now_!”

Hawke pushed me on, halfheartedly.  His attention was on Alistair and Amrita, who were farther away from the rift than we were.  Bull and Solas ran past me, immediately jumping through the rift, and then Varric was in next.  The dwarf gave me a quick look, a quick gesture to follow, as he passed, but I didn’t move. 

The portal was right in front of me, but so was Hawke.  And I could tell that he was about to run in the exact opposite direction. 

When I looked for Alistair and Amrita, I saw that their pathway was blocked by the massive spider from earlier; the same one the Divine spirit had blown away.  I had hoped it’d stay down, but there it was, right between us and them.  And I knew exactly what Hawke was thinking; I could read it plain as day on his stupid face.  He was going to run right at the Nightmare, rather than to the portal behind us.  It was all so fucking stupid.

“Garrett, come on.”

He paused, maybe because of the pure desperation in my voice, and the urgency with which I said his name; or maybe it was just because of the fact that I called him by his first name.  Maybe it was all of those things.  In any case, he stopped gesturing for me to move on and looked at me; like, really looked at me.  I held his gaze with my determined eyes, just staring for a bit longer than necessary.  I couldn’t help but memorize the light brown color, and the almond shape of his eyes.  I didn’t know when I would get to see them again and I felt like I crying.

“You said you’d always be by my side,” I breathed, reaching out to grab onto him.  He froze then, staring down at me with no small amount of surprise, probably from the way I was holding onto him; something I’d never really done before, not when I was sober.  My throat was trying to close up on me, but I forced myself to speak anyways.  “And now you’re – what?  Thinkin’ ‘bout doin’ somethin’ insane?  You jus’ gonna fuckin’ sacrifice yourself to let those two get through?  Die down here?” 

I had one fist wrapped around the top of his chest plate, pulling him ever so slightly down until we were completely eye level.  I got in his face, making sure I had his sole attention.

“You can’t do that,” I told him, my voice breaking.  “I can’t let you.  You gotta go back.”

I forced myself to stare him straight in the eyes, not wavering an ounce; not even when he opened his mouth to argue with me.  I spoke my next words right over the protests he was forming.

“I love you.”

I watched his eyes widened, and I could feel my chest, my heart, clench up at the sight of his mouth hanging open.  I felt him go slack under my hands and I knew it was almost time.  He stared at me like he didn’t quite believe me, and he took a slight step backwards.  That was my cue, though I had just a few last words I needed to say. 

First, I took a step with him, and pulled him the rest of the way down, driving my lips to his with an urgency neither of us had ever shown before.  I kissed him until I couldn’t breathe, and until I was certain that he couldn’t either.  ‘ _I’m going to hell,_ ’ I thought, ‘ _straight to hell_ ’. 

Still holding him, I tilted my head up, eyes on the murky green waves above us, and breathed my last words.

“So, just…don’t think this is goodbye.  Okay?”

I pushed him, hard.  I pushed Hawke straight through the portal that would’ve taken us both back to Adamant, and I only uttered one small apology as I did it.

I watched as his lips formed to say my name one last time, but it was cut off as the portal took him away.  I spun around and ran for the demon.

“Fitz,” Amrita moved towards me, though all three of us were fighting that goddamn spider monster together.  Her eyes were stricken, and I knew she had seen what I did.  I didn’t have to even say anything out loud; she already knew what I was thinking.  “You can’t.”

“It’s the only way,” I told her harshly, as I sliced at the demon with everything I had.  One of my daggers sank in too deep, and I lost grip of it as the spider’s leg danced away from me.  The Nightmare roared as it tried to hit me, tried to kick one of its gross legs at me, only to spin like a dreidel instead.  It proved the point I was just about to make.

I don't want to die, don't even want to be in this fucking place, but out of everyone here, I'm the only person who stands a fucking chance.  Demons don't have shit on me, and if it saves someone else...then there's really only one way to do this.

“You know I gotta do this.  They can’t touch me.  I’m the only one who doesn’t have to worry.”

“Now, go!” I urged them, but both Amrita and Alistair hesitated.  I thought wildly, already planning how to destroy this fucking thing.  I kept hacking it, and it kept backing away from me.  But, I only had one weapon, and that just wasn’t feasible for taking on a monster the size of a house.  This thing had to die, especially if it was Corypheus’ beloved pet.

“Alistair, wait,” I said, pausing in my actions and turning to the Grey Warden who still wasn’t even moving.  I stretched out one urgent arm, and he just looked at me dubiously, probably doubting my ability.  “Gimme your sword?”

He watched me closely, then looked at the monster that was probably only a few seconds away from reorienting itself, now that I had backed off.  Alistair seemed to come to a decision, and, thankfully, it was in my favor.

“Here.  Take it, it’s all yours,” he handed it over, nodding at me.  “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

“Just go,” I told him, and he nodded again.  He ran for the portal with only one last glance at Amrita, who was still staring at me.

“Amrita, you have to go _now_.” I said urgently, looking back and forth between her and the monster.  “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Fitz,” Her voice cracked and I focused harder on the monster.  “I can’t…I can’t leave you here.  How will you get back?  You’ll be stuck here…”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” I grinned at her, even though it was pretty strained by the fact that she was _still here_.  The Nightmare was back to its senses, and it took one giant step towards us, forcing me and Amrita to take a step back.  In the opposite direction of the goddamn rift.  “The Fade fuckin’ hates me.  It’ll spit me out sooner or later.  Ten bucks says it kicks me out in a week.”

“I don’t know what bucks _are_ ,” Amrita said, tears already pouring down her cheeks.  She was flinging spells at the thing, vainly trying to stay with me.  As if we had enough time for this.  The slight grin I wore lapsed into a grimace.  Fuck, this was hard.

“I’ll tell ya what,” I said, shouldering her to the side as the Nightmare made a swipe at her.  “I’ll explain when I get back, yeah?  There, now I gotta survive this.  No take backs.” 

A sudden thought hit me, a realization.  A bit wildly, I rifled through the pack still at my side, since the beginning of this day, and I pulled from it a thick, hardcover notebook. 

“If…if I take too long,” I began to say, as I threw my journal to her; watching only briefly to see it land in her hands, before slamming my body into the Spider’s thick leg.  It had mistakenly placed the appendage too close to me, and I took advantage of it.  The monster screeched at my touch, frozen, but it didn’t spin away this time. 

I ran back towards Amrita, as the demon continued screeching behind me.  It didn’t immediately follow, seemed a bit frozen actually, so I grabbed hold of my friend and pulled her forward with me.  We headed for the rift and, for a moment, I felt a flicker of hope.

Amrita had fumbled a little, but when next I looked, she was holding my journal to her chest; her staff held aloft as she focused on holding it with care.  We were still running.

The demon recovered quickly, and outright jumped high in the air, landing almost on top of us.  I pushed Amrita once again, and dove forward as well.  We just barely made it out from the Nightmare’s clutches, not that it would have mattered for me.  It was Amrita I was worried for.

I had to yell, as the demon tried to take another step for Amrita.  I was doing my best to attack it, but it was also doing its best to avoid me.  It seemed to have given up on attacking me; and I think the Nightmare knew that Amrita was the real target in all of this anyways.  Amrita had to get back; she has a goddamn Inquisition to lead for fuck's sake.

“Give that to Hawke!” I screamed, between swings.  “There’s another…in Skyhold.  Ask Cole, okay?”

I backed away from the demon, just for a brief moment, to catch my breath.  It was doing the same, though I had the sinking feeling that my disorientation skill wasn’t as effective as before.  The thing didn’t spin away when I touched it; didn’t seem as confused by my presence. 

When I glanced at her, Amrita wasn’t looking at me and she wasn’t mopping up her tears either, even as she nodded and slowly started backing away from me.  I also noticed that she still clutched my journal in her hands and I knew it would find its way to Hawke.  I cringed when she let out a light sob.

With both of our attentions on the monster intent on skewering us, I spoke once last time, as I began heading towards the Nightmare alone.

“Amrita?” She looked at me then, but I didn’t hold her gaze long.  Not when all I could see was sorrow in her eyes.  “Take care, okay?  And watch Hawke for me, please?  Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I swear on it,” she promised me, voice growing louder to reach me.  “And, Fitz, you promised.  You can’t die here.”

I knew I shouldn’t have promised Amrita that I would come back, because, hell, it’s not like that’s something I can know for sure.  She would forgive me if my words turned out to be false, but, fuck, was I gonna try not to break that promise.

Besides, I’d finally told Hawke; some of it, at least.  It wasn’t how I intended to go about telling him everything, but at least I could say I somewhat kept the deal I had made with myself last night.  Maybe it was cruel of me, to say those words for the first time, when I was planning on sacrificing myself; when I was planning on leaving him once again.  But, god, did I mean them, with everything I had.  I wanted to return to him and I'm going to try my hardest to do so, once this demon is taken care of.

There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to stay in Thedas.  I wanted to _live_.

I grinned at Amrita from over my shoulder, both Alistair’s sword and my own dagger drawn and at the ready, as the demon took another shuddering step in our direction. 

“As if, ‘Rita.  See ya later.”

I called out the words, and tried to sound nonchalant even though I felt anything but.  I didn’t watch her run; I just kept my eyes on the Nightmare.  I had to do my best to hurt the damn monster enough so that it couldn’t go after my friend, and I needed all my mind on this task; no zoning this time around.  I couldn't give it another chance to jump in Amrita's path, lest this fucking demon really fucks things up.  Worse than it already has, that is.

My plan of attack was ill-advised and hastily put together, but, hell, the thing couldn’t hurt me.  Not really.  But I could hurt it.

And it just fucking figured, too.  Of course everything would turn on its head, just when I finally had some stuff figured out; just when I thought I was ready to really come clean.  Just when I was finally ready to admit to everything, to my secrets and my feelings and fucking _everything_ , it all went to shit.  Fuck, I was ready to scream, and it wasn't even because of the giant fucking spider-monster bullshit going on right in front of me. 

All I wanted was to say those three words to Hawke for a second time, for a great many times thereafter, and I wasn't sure if I'd get the chance again.  

So, when Amrita finally began to run towards the rift; I took a deep breath, thought of Hawke, and then I charged. 

I had the demon going crazy as it tried to aim hit after hit at me, only to somehow miss at the last second as some unseen part of me stopped its blows from actually making contact.  I was in the middle of a flurry of quick slices at the demon’s underbelly when I physically felt the portal close from far behind me and, still, I didn’t look.  The monster's shrieking rang through my ears, and it almost hurt more than the pain in my chest. However, in that moment, it was the thought of seeing Hawke again, in the future or in wherever, that truly motivated me to keep going; to keep attacking that fucking demon until it was dead on the swampy ground in front of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Act II yall (and it was much, much longer than I ever planned) - next up: Act III ! I really wanted to have the next chapter ready to post right after this one, spare you the cliffhanger, but I don't think I'll be able to do that. I'm really sorry, please be patient with me! I will try to make sure the wait isn't too long tho (I've also been writing fluffy drabble stuff on the side, so I'l probably post those in this series soon)!  
> As always, I love hearing your thoughts and thank you for sharing them with me and for reading this long thing!! 
> 
> As for fanart!! [NeoHH10 has drawn some art of Fitz (plus a Hawke and Varric!)](http://sta.sh/02e5lqkvngni)  
> [Reluak also drew Fitz!!!](http://tinyurl.com/znkmvj8)  
> and then in case you haven't seen, please check out: [happysnowdragon's art](http://imgur.com/a/CBpet)


	49. Act III: How Time Escapes

The room was dark and cold with only the last dredges of the evening’s light shining through a single small window.  A man sat hunched over on the bed, which was made; the sheets stretched tight over the mattress and the covers perfectly pressed.  The room should have been filled with dust, but instead it was pristine and yet still very much unlived in.  Even the odds and ends that littered the room, some small knick knack items and a few spare tunics, seemed to be on display.  The room was all too sparse and nondescript, not at all a way to describe the young man who had made that room his own.  It made sense though, he had always made a habit of carrying everything important around with him, even when he was just going to the kitchens to steal a bottle of wine. 

The room was clean, yes, but anybody could see that it had been tidied in a rather haphazard kind of way.  The room’s true inhabitant had not returned in a long time; otherwise the tunics would decorate the ground, and not the top of the small desk that sat in the corner of the room.  It was likely that they would not be folded either; a fact that the man sitting on the neatly made bed couldn’t help but think when he had first entered the room.

It wasn’t his room, of course; rather, it belonged to someone very dear to him.  The man sitting on the cold bed had been there for a while, just quietly taking in the room as well as the ache it brought him.  As he leaned, slouched over, with his arms laid across his knees, he spied the lip of an empty wine bottle peeking out from beneath the bed.  A laugh, almost like a sob, escaped from the man’s throat, and it was the first sound to echo in that empty space since the young man living there had left.  That one not-quite-laugh seemed to open the gates, and soon the man was talking to the four walls that surrounded him, even if his words were truly aimed at one man in particular.

“You bastard,” the man cursed, swiping one arm over his eyes, mussing the already untidy black hair that fell across his forehead in a wispy fringe.  “You utter, utter bastard.”

“Why would you ever think…how could you think I would ever,” the man sucked in a breath and let it go.  “I never would have cared, never…not even if you came from the Maker damned stars.  It wouldn’t have changed anything, least of all how I feel about you.”

Tears were falling, the first since green waves closed in on his entire world, and once they started, it seemed like they couldn’t stop.  The man ignored the salty tracks on his face, and stared off to the side, at the two journals stacked next to him.  They were well-loved, worn through from cover to cover, and nearly every page was full of writing, even if some were just of scribbled pictures.  There was a whole person contained inside those pages; a diary written to help a struggling mind. 

“Fitz,” the man couldn’t continue speaking.  Saying his name closed the man’s throat as effectively as a pair of hands wrapped around it.  But, the tears still flowed.

In a fit of pure feeling, the man stood and lashed out; not just in general, but specifically at the neatly spread covers he was sitting on.  He pulled the covers back, throwing them halfway off the bed, and then tore the sheets from their tucked in corners so that they could be strewn in a heap on the bed.  The journals were briefly jostled in these sudden movements, but they were too far out of reach to be carelessly thrown across the room.  The man found that he couldn’t even look at them.  As the blankets settled, they folded on top of the journals, and it was almost like they weren’t even there.

That was when the door opened, and an old friend walked in.

The dwarf’s features were weary as he took in the sight before him; a deep sadness lay within his eyes, for his friend and for much more. 

“Hawke,” he began, walking slowing, carefully, into the room.  “Hawke, what are you doing?”

The man, Hawke, was breathing heavily, even though the only thing he had done was mess up a bed.  He closed his eyes.

“I couldn’t, Varric…he never makes his bed.”

Varric sighed, and edged closer.  He laid a comforting hand on his best friend’s elbow, and directed him to the chair that sat in the opposite corner of the small room, nearer to the door that was still open.  No one said anything, but the open door made it all feel a little less suffocating.

Hawke sat down, heavily, and buried his face in his hands as he leaned over onto the desk that lay right between the chair and the stone wall. 

“He’s not gone, Varric,” Hawke said, in a whisper.  It was only further muffled by his hands, but Varric heard it all the same.  “He can’t leave me again.  I won’t allow it.”

Varric switched hands, laying one solid palm on his friend’s shoulder, and squeezed.

“Scholar’s gonna be fine,” he said, adding an upbeat tone to his voice.  “The Inquisitor herself said she won’t stop looking for ways to get the kid out of…she’ll find a way.  She always does.”

“I should be there,” Hawke said suddenly, removing his hands and tilting his head up to look at Varric.  The pain in his eyes almost made the dwarf look away, but Varric held firm and locked eyes with his best friend.  “At Adamant.  If he gets out, and I’m not there–”

Varric cut in, gently, “You know we’re still finding a way to get him out.”

The dwarf hesitated, not quite liking the way his words fell flat between them, nor the way Hawke’s shoulders had dropped afterwards.

“Hawke, there’s no promising that Scholar will land at Adamant when he…gets out.  There are many places where the Veil is thin.  He could land anywhere.  Or, well, that’s what Chuckles is saying.  There’s still a lot to do, just to pinpoint where Scholar could pop out.”  The dwarf paused again, before continuing when Hawke showed no signs of answering.

“That place was getting to your head, Hawke.  It wasn’t good for you,” he said, firmly.  “You know you had to come back here.  Rest up.  Gather yourself.  And, in the meantime, we have our own out there, alongside other Inquisition soldiers.  If Scholar gets out while you’re here, there will be familiar faces for him to see.”

Hawke nodded along to his friend’s words, as much a necessity as it was listening.  He needed to believe that all was well; that Fitz would leave the Fade, all in one perfect piece, and that there would be people around to help him back.  Help him back to Skyhold.  Back to Hawke.

He needed to believe that, even though his heart was in shards and his head was telling him cynicisms masked as realism. 

So, Hawke nodded, and told Varric that he needed to talk to him about something else.

~

Falling out of a rift was a showstopper.  As in a literal, battle-stopping, jaw-hanging entrance back into the physical world of Wardens and soldiers and everything in between.

The fortress was secure and, at long last, soldiers on both sides were able to put their weapons down.  Fighting might have continued, if not for the sudden movements issuing from the giant rift that hung above them, which had, so far, been still.

Wardens and Inquisition soldiers all stopped to look; to get ready, in case demons were about to rain down upon them.  Amazingly, no such thing happened.  Instead, out fell three distinctly un-demonlike figures; one after the other. 

“Alright, I’m with Fitz on this one,” Bull huffed, voice deep and gruff as he tried to shake off the feeling the Fade had left on his skin.  Like cords, tied tight to restrain and suffocate, and in all the wrong ways.  Unnatural.  “We’re drinking ‘til we black out tonight.  Sound good?”

“Count me in,” Varric all but wheezed back, breath all caught from running for the rift like a madman, as they all had been.  “Though, not that shit you drink.  Never again, not even after today.”

Bull laughed, but otherwise didn’t respond.  A few seconds had passed, and yet it was still just the three of them standing in the wide courtyard, surrounded by people who had only just given up the fight.

Solas didn’t even attempt to join into the conversation.  He had fallen from the rift more gracefully than the other two, and had followed the others, when it was unanimously decided to walk out from under the rippling tear above them.  Still, he couldn’t help but turn back to stare at it, waiting.

Then, suddenly, another figure was falling; in a mass of limbs and screaming that caught every bystander off guard.  It was a different type of falling than the first three to come from the portal; the figure was facing the sky, the rift, rather than the ground.  It wasn’t clear if he was hurt or not, and Varric, who had immediately recognized the falling man to be Hawke, was already running back towards the rift, while Hawke was still in the air.  The man’s back landed hard on the stone ground, debris from the long hours of continuous fighting floating up and clouding around him as the impact of his body shook bits of dust and rock loose.  His yell had cut off as soon as he landed, but he wasn’t down for long. 

Varric hadn’t even reached Hawke yet, was just on the verge of calling his name, when the man stood in flurry of sharp movements.  Hawke spun around, trying to make sense of where he was, and caught sight of his friend immediately.  Varric wasn’t sure what happened, and he didn’t have much time to wonder, because the look on Hawke’s face put a terror through him that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hawke’s expression was a mess a warring emotion; it was as though he was stricken, but anger was valiantly fighting for a dominant spot on his face, and then there was the horror in his eyes and the way that he was biting his bottom lip so hard, the skin looked ready to break.

“Hawke, what–”

“ _That_.  _Little_.  _Shit_.”  Hawke’s fists were balled up, his knuckles popping and turning white, and he held one arm up, as if he wanted to smash it into something, though there weren’t any walls nearby.  He started pacing instead, barely even allowing Varric to usher him to the side of the still glowing rift above them.  Hawke kept darting his face up, and the green shine of the sky made him look sick.

“I’m going to _kill_ him,” he gritted out, hissing his words through clenched teeth.  “I can’t believe he…”  Hawke brought one fist up to his face, unclenching his hand in order to cover his mouth, thumb pressing into his jaw with what looked like painful force.  Varric caught the man’s elbow, but Hawke ripped his arm away, cursing, and walked a few paces forward.

“Hawke,” Varric stressed, raising his voice so to grab the enraged man’s attention.  Hawke barely even gave him a glance.  “Tell me what happened.  Who are you going to kill?”

Hawke laughed, a strangled kind of laugh that was really more like a harsh bark, and answered, “ _Fitz_.  Who else?” 

Hawke turned again, walking towards the dwarf rather than away.  His eyes were wide with anger, and his lips were curled back.  “Who else could make me this angry?  Who else does stupid things, _repeatedly_ , and who else would say ‘I love you’ as they push you into a blighted tear in the Veil?”

Varric went to speak, though his mind was reeling with the onslaught of Hawke’s words, but the other man was not done talking.

“Maker!  What is taking them so long?”

Hawke whirled around again, walking close to the rift again.  His eyes squinted up at the thing, and his hands ran through his hair, before gripping at the blood-matted strands with shaking fingers.  His mouth fixed up again, to let out another shout, but then the rift was moving again, and someone else fell out.

Alistair landed in a heap, his armored knees taking the brunt of impact.  It created a loud clanking sound that grated on the ears, similar to when Hawke had fallen; full body, onto the stone ground.  Hawke was on him in no time, hauling the man up by the shoulders and getting in the other’s face.

“Where’s Fitz?  Tell me he’s right behind you,” he nearly yelled and, still in Hawke’s grasp, Alistair lurched backwards, taken aback by the sudden anger being thrown at him.  “By the Maker, if he doesn’t come out in the next second, I swear I will–”

Alistair started to say something, but Hawke was shaking him; too hard, and probably wouldn’t have heard him even if he had gotten the words out.  Varric pulled at Hawke’s arms, trying to separate the two men, and only succeeded when Bull decided to help out. 

Bull pushed in between the Warden and Hawke, and thrust out an arm, knocking Hawke’s hands away from Alistair, who still hadn’t even gotten a chance to catch his breath after falling through the rift.  Bull kept his arm up, his bicep pressing into Hawke’s chestplate when the man tried to get back at the panting Warden.  The qunari pushed, issuing a quick jab that had the other man stumbling back slightly.  Hawke snarled, but didn’t retaliate this time.

“Hawke,” Alistair began, “I don’t know how to–”

When Amrita fell through, she had a book hugged tight to her chest; holding the thing so close it tucked right under her chin.  She landed on her feet, not gently, but at least she didn’t fall.  She did stumble however, and she looked ready to drop.  Her face was angled downwards and, if one looked closely enough and was as short as, let’s say, Varric, they would be able to see the lines of tears that stained her face.  As it were, Varric did see Amrita’s face, and his heart fell.

His mind had been piecing it all together, since he was quick when it came to these types of things, and it clicked, all at once, with the solitary arrival of Amrita. 

Everyone else understood as well, when the rift closed with a pop just a moment later.

Varric didn’t want to look around at Hawke, didn’t know if he could stomach seeing his best friend’s heart break all over again, but he forced himself to look anyways.

Hawke stood frozen, arms held slightly out as if he were about to gesture at someone, possibly Amrita, when the rift had closed.  His eyes stared at nothing, for a moment, and then for another, before his arms simply fell at his sides.

“No…” Hawke shook his head, slowly at first and then quicker as the panic set in once more; more intense than before.  “NO!”

He shoulder-checked past Bull, who simply let him go this time, and then Hawke made a beeline for Amrita.  Alistair had immediately jumped out of the way as Hawke came storming by, leaving the Inquisitor to face the man on her own.  Amrita was just barely standing, and she held a hand over her face, over her eyes, when Hawke latched onto her.

Hawke grabbed hold of the tattered lapel of Amrita’s overcoat, and pulled her forward.

“Open it, open it right now,” he ordered in a low, deadly, voice as he brought his face down to her level.  He glared until she lifted her head.  “You’re going to open that – that fucking thing, _now_ , and we’re going to–”

“Hawke,” Amrita started, around a sob.  She shook her head when words failed, and Hawke shook her once, sharply. 

“Don’t – don’t you fucking–”

“Hawke, I don’t know _how_ ,” she cried.  “I can’t do it.”

“You _brought_ us there.  You opened a way to the Fade, and you’re going to open it again, or so help me–”

Amrita slapped Hawke’s hand away, sparks of unintentional magic flying from her left hand that made Hawke step back.  He almost didn’t; he just wanted to grab that damn hand, and its damned mark, and force it to tear a hole big enough to bring the Fade down around them. 

“I can’t!  That magic came from panic, I don’t know how to recreate it,” Amrita told him, her tone pleading and sad.  “Please, I just…I don’t know how.”

“We are not leaving him in there,” Hawke shouted, almost losing it. 

People were starting to crowd around them; Bull and Varric had followed, and joined Hawke on either side; the former intent on keeping the man in check, and the latter simply wishing to be by his best friend’s side.  Solas wandered closer, not quite joining their tight circle, but just standing on the edges, watching. 

“Hawke, I swear,” Amrita begged, fingers digging deep into the book she held; having returned to clutching it with both hands after knocking Hawke’s away from her.  “I swear, I’m going to find a way…it’s just–”

“No!  It has to be now,” Hawke yelled back, and Bull had to restrain him from rushing forward.  “I won’t let him die in there.  Not him!  I won’t just stand by and–”

“Hawke,” Varric broke in, pressing in closer as tears flowed down Hawke’s cheeks.  “We’ll get Fitz out of there, come on, listen to the Inquisitor.  She doesn’t want him in there any more than you do.  She won’t rest until he’s back here, with us.”  The dwarf sent a sharp glance Amrita’s way, but she was already nodding her head in quick successions.  Hawke shook his head, and a sob broke through his throat.

“No…Varric, I – I can’t,” he said to his friend, in a hoarse whisper.  “I can’t lose him too.  Not again.  Not after…”

Hawke nearly went limp after that; he stopped struggling, and looked like he would’ve fallen to his knees if Varric hadn’t been quick to grab on.  Bull backed away, and Varric led his defeated friend away from the center of what had become a very public scene. 

“Come on, Hawke,” he coaxed, in a soothing voice, though his voice almost broke over his words.  “Get you out of here.”

Back at the center of where the rift once hovered, Amrita remained upright as business took over once more.  She forced herself to stand up straighter, and prepared herself to act as the Inquisitor, rather than a woman who had just lost a dear friend.

The book in her arms went from being hugged to her chest, to being held at her side where it was out of view from others; not necessarily to hide, but just to divert any attention to it.  Now wasn’t the time to give it away.  For now, it was hers to guard; as one last promise to her friend. 

She just hoped he kept his.

~

“But, Cole,” Amrita almost backed down.  It felt wrong, but she felt she had to ask.  “After everything, you came from the Fade.  Isn’t there any way–”

“Unfortunately,” Solas cut in, tone overall passive, if a bit short.  “Cole has since parted ways with his spirit-self, as you well know, Inquisitor.”  He shot the other elf a significant look, to which she just pursed her lips at.  “I’m afraid he won’t be able to help you in the way you want.”

The three of them were stood around Solas’ table in the dim lighting of the rotunda.  It was nearing nighttime, and most people had left for better places and better company; making the library silent and bare.  Amrita had been talking with Solas, about the Fade and much more, when Cole had appeared.  He knew Amrita had been wanting to speak with him, and Cole would admit to hiding at first, but it was only because he knew he didn’t have any good answers for her.  The Inquisitor wanted to know if Cole could return to the Fade, but it was too late.

Cole shook his head, looking sad.  “I don’t…if he was here, somewhere, I would be able to find him.  But, he isn’t – he’s in the Fade, and I don’t know how to get him out.  I don’t remember, not fully.”

Sensing the turmoil inside the boy, Amrita rested a hand on his shoulder and made it a point to look up at him, until both sets of eyes were fixed on each other. 

“Don’t worry yourself over it, Cole.  We’ll find a way.”

Cole straightened up a little bit, pulling himself just slightly out of his slouch, and peered down at the Inquisitor with a suddenly eager expression.

“If you can get him out, I can find him,” the boy said, leaning slightly into Amrita’s touch since her hand still rested on his arm.  “Varric knows people.  You know people.  Ask them.”

Amrita’s hand squeezed, for a brief moment, before she finally let go.  She nodded, and Cole bowed his head, feeling a confusing mix of emotions.  It was distressing, being unable to help because he was simply too human.   But, his assurance seemed to make the Inquisitor feel a little calmer, and Cole knew that was the most he could do in this situation.

Fitz always treated him well; even if the man were a little abrasive at times, even if their first time meeting hadn’t gone so well.  Cole thought back to the all those times they had spent together; with the kittens, in that one spot Cole liked hanging around because it was out of the way and nobody would be close enough to bump into him because they didn’t see him there, and then there were the times when Fitz helped him help people.  Of course, Fitz usually thought Cole’s plans ideas were funny, and he never really joined solely for the aim of helping people.  And, it was also true that the one time Cole stole a load of turnips, Fitz had only helped so that he could nick a few (to pelt at Sera when they grew soft enough).  But, still.  Fitz never made fun, and never let anyone push Cole around – once he began to lose his ability to disappear at will.

Cole liked to think that this was what having an older brother would be like, and he found that he quite liked the feeling. 

Fitz was never meant to be here, in this world, but he had learned how to adapt.  Cole knew the Fade was different.  Fitz didn’t belong there, should never have gone there. 

If he stayed in that place any longer, he would not be the same person they had known.

Cole didn’t quite have the words, and the ones he did have were confusing, even to him, but for once he found that he couldn’t just let them out; even though the others needed to hear them.  He didn’t know everything about the world, or the Fade, or other worlds.  He didn’t know for certain what would happen if Fitz stayed in the Fade for too long.  So, he decided his worries were a product of the humanness he had been trying so hard to work towards. 

Regardless, he stressed the importance of moving quickly, even if he kept most of his worst worries hidden.  He did have one thing to say, however.

“And, Inquisitor…” Cole looked Amrita in the eyes again, still too intense and too close, and waited until he knew she was really listening and not just dwelling on the thoughts in her head.  “You should show him.  He’s ready.”

“You’ve been wondering, you think he’s still in too much pain.  He is, but Hawke needs to hear Fitz’ words, even if they are just written.”

~

“Hawke, there’s something I need to give you,” Amrita said, not yet crossing over the threshold into the barren room that had been given to Hawke when he first joined the Inquisition.  The man sat there, with Varric on the other side of him.  Amrita hesitated, only briefly, because she knew she was not welcome. 

“But, first.  I want to tell you something.”

She took a deep breath before going on, feeling the weight of two stares on her.  Amrita thought it would get easier, being judged so harshly, now that she was the Inquisitor, but it didn’t.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened at Redcliffe all those months ago, either from Varric or…or someone else,” she said, trying not to stumble over her words, and Hawke finally spoke, interjecting as if he wished the Inquisitor would just leave.  He probably did, but his attitude did not deter her in any way.

“Is there a point to this?” he asked curtly.  He was sat at a small table that rested in the far corner of the room, nearest to a small window.  Varric sat next to him, a book in front of him, and he sent Amrita a small grimace, probably as an apology for Hawke’s unfriendliness.  That’s all the encouragement she needed to get going again.

“Yes.  You probably already know, but Fitz was there–”

Hawke barked out a laugh, as he nodded his head.  He finally turned all the way around, to stare at Amrita head-on rather than just a tilt of the head. 

“Oh, yes.  I do recall hearing about that,” he said, mockingly, with an undercurrent of strong anger coloring his words.  “Always bringing him to places he has no business being, huh?”

Amrita steeled her features, not allowing the jibe to affect her. 

“Something happened there, when Dorian and I were sent into the future.  And, Dorian, I don’t think he knows enough to really wonder after it, or if he really remembers…but what Fitz did that day…it troubled me for quite a while,” she said, letting her words come out quickly and all at once; lest she lose her nerve.  She hadn’t talked about this with anyone so far.  “I’m not saying this to hurt you…hurt you more than you already are.  I just think you need to know how strongly Fitz felt about his secrets, before I give these to you.” 

The journals in her hands felt heavy, but Hawke didn’t immediately focus on them.  He was stuck on the woman’s words.

“Don’t act like you know–” Hawke spat, almost standing up from the fuming indignation flaring up within him.  However, Varric held out a hand and stopped the man before he even really got a chance to think his words through.  Hawke took a deep breath and let it out. 

“I _know_ Fitz,” he said, sounding only slightly calmer despite the long exhale from only moments before.  “Don’t speak to me as if I don’t.”

Shaking her head, Amrita rushed to correct herself.  “No, no.  I didn’t mean that at all!  I just – I meant that…”

Amrita gestured to the two books in her hands a little helplessly.  Both books were clearly well-worn journals, and Hawke’s eyes zoned in on them when the Inquisitor lifted her hands up a little; brandishing the books like a shield.  Varric had already been glancing at them, had recognized them, and he knew exactly what those books were.  And what they would hold, even though he had never read a single page.

Hawke sat there, his friend’s hand still resting on his shoulder, and his adam’s apple bobbed quickly as he swallowed a tense gulp of air.  Amrita took a step forward, and decided to just say it; though the words were still painful to speak aloud.

“Fitz killed himself in that other timeline,” Amrita said, voice much quieter, softer, than before.  “They found out something…something was off about him, and they took–” 

Amrita’s voice broke, as the memories flooded back.  She could remember the look in Leliana’s eyes as she told them that Fitz hadn’t made it, that they tortured him just as they had her, and it was like reliving that day all over again. 

“I know now why he did it.  His secrets were just that important to him, he wasn’t ready to let them out yet,” she said.  “I know how close you two are, and you know how he is…he doesn’t like talking about himself, and trust doesn’t come easy.  And, I mean no offense, but please, just…don’t let what you read in these journals affect how you see him…how you think of him.”

Amrita crossed the room, and placed the two books on top of the table in front of Hawke.  He just stared down at them for a moment, making no move to touch them yet. 

“I haven’t read them.  I don’t think anybody has,” Amrita confessed.  She took a quick step back, though she didn’t leave immediately.

Amrita paused, debating whether to say more; wondering if she had not already said too much.  Talking to Hawke felt so far out of her realm, and she really didn’t want to make matter worse.  In the end, she decided one more thing couldn’t hurt.  When she turned to walk back out the door, Amrita delivered her words from over her shoulder.

“He didn’t hide himself to torment you,” she told him, quietly.  “If anything…I think he did it to torment himself.”

Amrita left the room, and didn’t look back.  Whatever came next wasn’t for her eyes to see; it was a private affair and she didn’t particularly want to witness Hawke’s reaction to Fitz’ writings.  She didn’t think it would be awful, just emotional.  In any case, Amrita had other work to do, which also included getting Fitz back.

Hawke, on the other hand, was still sat there staring at the journals laid out before him.  It wasn’t until the door was firmly shut behind the Inquisitor, and her retreating footsteps couldn’t be heard anymore, that he finally reached out one shaky hand to bring the two books closer.  He ran his palm over the rough cover of the first journal he could reach, wondering if its pages truly held all the answers he ever wanted to learn.  The edges were frayed and scratches littered its surface, and Hawke thought they might just tear him apart.

When he finally picked the first journal up, cradling it in his handles and flicking through the pages at random, Hawke was struck by the sense of crippling nostalgia.  His fingers paused, stopping on one page that had caught his attention. 

It seemed that Fitz had been outside when he had been writing this particular passage.  In the corner, taking up a rather large amount of room, was an unnecessarily detailed picture of a piece of elfroot.  Hawke didn’t take in the words, instead he just started leafing through the book for the pictures; small doodles that were just so Fitz, it hurt. 

Hawke couldn’t help it, he began laughing.  Varric nearly jumped, he hadn’t heard his friend laugh in what felt like forever, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek at whatever it was that made Hawke laugh like that.  Noticing his friend’s interest, Hawke pointed to a small picture of a dragon.  It had exaggerated fangs and a hilariously furrowed expression; looking angry and humorous at the same time.  It had little arms that jutted out above its huge belly, and long, fat legs as well as a big tail that was decorated with what looked like spikes.  Its wings flared out, and were way too small for its body, which was one of the reasons why Hawke had burst out laughing.  The next reason was the caption underneath the drawing, which just read ‘fuck off’. 

It was just so Fitz.

Varric’s lips twitched up, and he shook his head.  “Scholar…”

“I almost forgot he loved doing this…” Hawke said, reigning in the last of his chuckles.  His expression turned reflective, sadly contemplative, and his mind recalled far away memories.  “Do you remember how he would just draw on anything?  Walls, books…anything but on actual scrap paper.”

Hawke stared at the little picture, nearly becoming lost in the memories now swimming through his head.  There weren’t tears in his eyes, but it was a close thing. 

“Used to drive Merrill mad…I think half the books in my library are still full of his scribbles,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“He took up the habit here as well,” Varric said, with that same light grin.  “Sparkler almost tore his head off once.  Or, multiple times.  And you’ve seen his wall, of course.  The one in that damned dungeon cell he loves running off to.  Scholar always had the weirdest taste in hiding places.”

“Weirder than that dive bar of ours?” Hawke asked, faintly, still focused on that one picture and the slanted letters of the curse word beneath it.

“I don’t recall ever hiding there, per se.  Besides, that dive bar doesn’t even compare – oh, heh.  Well, I suppose it did have similar décor.  If you count the crumbling walls, the holes in inappropriate places.  A drunken fool huddled in the corner…”

Hawke didn’t laugh, didn’t even seem to hear Varric’s attempt at a joke.  The dwarf let his words die, knowing he had to at least try to keep Hawke from going too far into his own mind.  Even if it meant tens of millions of bad jokes and lame jabs, he would keep trying.

Instead of responding, Hawke traced his thumb over the little picture for a short moment, before closing the book with a soft snap.  He took a deep breath, and stared at the cover once more.

“I suppose I should just start reading then,” he said, with some hesitation that piqued Varric’s attention.

“I can leave if you–”

“No,” Hawke said quickly, glancing very briefly at his best friend.  “I’d prefer if you stayed.  So long as you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Varric replied easily, turning back to his own book.  “I’m always here for you, Hawke.  You know that.”

“And I thank you for it,” Hawke said back, a bit faintly because he had just opened the journal to the first page. 

The room was silent after that; both friends reading, though with varying levels of concentration.  Varric was more focused on his friend’s reactions and, frankly, the journals themselves.  He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in reading the stories they held, especially because he knew they would shed light on every confusing bit of Fitz that he and his friends had always wondered about. 

As for Hawke, once he started reading, his attentions didn’t waiver for even the slightest of seconds.  There were moments, small ones, when he wanted to put the book down and just hold his head, but he couldn’t.  He wanted to scream, yes, but he also wanted to reach the end; he wanted to read every inch of the two books in his possession until he knew them front and back. 

And even as everything slowly began to fall into place, and disbelief turned into astonished acceptance, Hawke just kept reading.

~

Daisy

I’m sending these out to everyone, and it isn’t the easier thing to deliver over paper, but I can’t seem to find the right words to make this news less hard to hear.

Fitz is gone.

He was never meant to join us at Adamant, but Scholar managed to weasel his way in anyway.  He did well, too, as I am sure Rivaini will be proud to hear, no matter how many times she said he was a hopeless case.  He fought well, and bravely.  But, I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear. 

We walked the Fade over there, and Scholar got left behind.  He’s trapped in there, and we’re trying to find a way to get him back, but it’s hard going.  Shit, we went from being in the ass-ends of Orlais, to the ass-ends of the Fade and I don’t think any of us really understands what happened – how it happened.  And, that’s the problem.  We have to get Fitz back, and we need some pretty big help to get the kid back here.  There’s a lot you need to hear, but I’m afraid I can’t add too much detail to this letter.  I’ve already written too much.

So, that’s why I’m asking if you wouldn’t mind taking a trip to Skyhold.  As soon as you get this letter.  I’m writing this from the camp – we haven’t even left the blighted fortress yet – and, as I said in the beginning, I’m sending this to everyone – mostly for the support.  Hawke’s in a bad way.  I think you can imagine how hard he’s taking this. 

Daisy, if anyone is needed to get our Scholar back, it’s you and that head of yours.  As for the others, they’ll distract Hawke.  Just like last time. 

I’m having a friend deliver this.  She has ways of sending messages off quicker than you can believe.  If Rivaini is with you, tell her to get her ship ready immediately. 

Varric Tethras

~

“Come on, Inky,” Sera cajoled, shoving a plate at the other elf.  Amrita was bent over the large desk in her rooms, had been holed up in there for most of the day.  She wasn’t very surprised when Sera decided to pick the locks, nor was she caught off guard by the other elf loudly busting in with a few plates of food.  “You gotta work, we get it.  Doesn’t mean you can just not eat, yeah?”

Amrita sighed, pen held aloft as she paused in writing.  She had to write reports, send letters, all while taking notes on the multiple tomes spread out around her.  Sera took advance of her lover’s pause, and placed the tray right over the paper Amrita had been so intently writing on.

“Sera,” she sighed again, though she made no moves to shove the food away.  Instead, she turned her head up and to the side in order to look at the elf currently hovering over her.  “I have to get this done, or–”

“Or what?” Sera asked, peevishly.  She put her hands on her hips and sent a comically stern look at the exasperated woman in front of her.  “You have all the right people doing all that you’re doin’ right here.  Fitzy would be friggin’ pissed if he knew ya weren’t takin’ care of yourself because of him.”

Amrita lowered her eyes, resting them on the tray that held a multitude of different foods.  She just stared for a moment, before picking up a rather fancy looking piece of bread.  Sera let out a pleased sound, and finally turned away.  She flopped herself on top of the bed that sat in the center of the room, and began talking.

She talked about anything, and everything, and Amrita listened.  Sometimes she even caught herself smiling and, just once, she found a laugh bubbling its way out of her throat.  All the while, Sera just kept her grin up and the words pouring until the silences that fell between sentences didn’t feel so tense or sad anymore. 

She didn’t bring Fitz up again right away.  Sera waited, made sure Amrita was mellow and curled up in bed next to her, before speaking about their shared friend.

“Say, Inky,” Sera began, tentatively.  They were facing each other; their faces laying just a few scant inches away from the other’s.  Sera waited until Amrita blinked sleepily, and then went on.  “You think Fitz’ll come back, yeah?  I mean, you got outta the Fade…he can too, right?”

Amrita’s eyes were sad, but her mouth was set in what can only be called determination. 

“Yes, vhenan,” she reached out, and grabbed Sera’s hand up in a gentle grasp.  Sera didn’t even make a face at the endearment, she just squeezed Amrita’s hand right back. 

“Varric knows some people, and they are on their way as we speak, I suspect.  Josie and Leliana are doing all they can as well.  Between all our resources, and all of the help we can get, I know we’ll find a way to get Fitz out of there.”

Amrita spoke with all the assurance of a woman who believed in her words so wholeheartedly, that she knew nothing could stand in the way of her carrying them out.  It was one of the many things Sera liked so much about her; all the odds seemed to be against her, but she still _believed_.

Amrita went quiet after saying her piece, just thinking, but she pulled herself out of the jumbled thoughts in her mind when she felt Sera’s hair tickle the side of her cheek.  She smiled, softly, and whispered, “Besides, he owes me ten bucks.”

Sera snorted, a bit indelicately, and replied, “Shit, you’re betting bucks?  Loons.  That arse owes me a friggin’ pint.  Only, I’m gonna make it five pints, just cus he’s takin’ so long.  Make it ten.”

Amrita huffed out a small breath of laughter as she snuggled closer to the taller elf, and tried not to think about how much time had passed since that day at Adamant. 

Fitz had to be fine.  He had looked so confident when she left him; stronger than she ever remembered seeing him. 

The very first time they met, they fought together to save each other.  She had cut the ropes that would have sent him into slavery, and he had cut the bodies that would have slowly overtaken her in a fight that was grossly outnumbered.  He had been her sole friend, a real friend, for a long time after she had been all but forced to join the Inquisition; had been with her since her life had been thrown up and down, and then sideways and diagonal.  It was a comforting friendship of two people who had simply just clicked, and she would be damned if she failed him as well.

Fitz had people who cared about him, a lot of people, and it would be a cold day when they’d just let him wallow in the Fade, alone. 

Amrita wasn’t about to let that happen, and neither was Varric, nor the others.  And even if he was still in mourning, Hawke wouldn’t either; not once he got himself back together and could function long enough to put his two cents into a rescue plan.

Even if it took months, or years, there had to be a way.

~

They were in Fitz’ room.  The sun had already gone down, had actually gone down quite a while ago.  Not that either of them really noticed.

“I gotta say,” Varric announced, putting the journal he had just finished reading down on the small table before him.  He brought his freed hands up to rub at his eyes, which were burning just the slightest bit, and sighed.  “Didn’t expect…all of that.  The blood mages part?  Already thought so.  And, Fitz being from some far away land?  Yeah, I think we all realized that one right away.”

Varric sighed as he tried to calm his mind, which was going in every which direction with all this new information currently settling into his head; even as his mouth continued running, almost as if he thought rambling would make everything, the information and impossibilities, all the more intelligible.

“But, Andraste’s flaming tits, another world?  Well, shit.”

Hawke shook his head, but didn’t tear his eyes away from the journal he was re-reading to share a glance with his astonished friend. 

Hawke had started off just sitting there, on the mess of blankets lying atop Fitz’ bed, staring off into space.  After reading the journals in their entireties, it was kind of hard not to just stare at the walls with a vacant expression.  Doing anything else seemed all too much, to be honest.

Hawke had shoved the books in Varric’s direction almost immediately after he was finished reading; with so much disbelief still coursing through his veins, that he couldn’t even utter a word to explain to his friend.  However, just sitting around got old real fast, and soon Hawke found himself pacing about; only sitting down when Varric had finally finished with the first book.  Hawke couldn’t stop himself from picking that journal back up again; not when it was just sitting there, taunting him.

“All this time,” Hawke began, voice nearly breaking.  He couldn’t continue, so he changed paths.  “What was it you used to say about him?  About where he lived, before Kirkwall?”

Varric raised both eyebrows, leaning back in his chair as he tried to think back to a long time ago; back when they used to make up stories about where the hell Fitz had come from.

“We said a lot, as I recall,” the dwarf replied, dryly.  “I thought he was just some weird kid, who’d come from some town in the middle of nowhere.  From some creepy, isolated village, you know?  Maybe somewhere out west…not a whole lot known about that area.  Never could pin down that accent of his, made it pretty hard to guess...shit.  Now we know.”

Hawke grunted, a small sound that really only sounded like he was clearing his throat.   Varric paused, before going on.

“Rivaini liked to say he crawled out of a cave one day and just happened upon Kirkwall.  I suppose she was the closest,” Varric coughed, “to being right, that is.  Maker’s ass, how is this even real?”

“It’s the usual story, I’m afraid,” Hawke replied, standing and walking over to where his friend sat.  He brought the journal he’d been flicking through, and placed it on the table in front of Varric with a slap.  He spoke in a deceptively lofty tone, though his true emotions went much deeper, and darker, than his voice implied. 

“A blood mage decides to play with things that shouldn’t be messed with, and ends up ruining innocent lives...the life of a fucking child.  Tore him from his home, and trapped him here, with no way to go back–”

The lofty tone broke with those last couple words, and the anger made itself known.  Hawke nearly left indents in the stone wall next to him when his fist smashed into it.  It would have been impressive too, had his sudden bodily movements not also jolted the table, accidentally sending one of the journals to the ground in a flurry of crumpled pages.  Varric leaned down to pick it up.

“Whoa there, Hawke,” he said quietly, aiming to subtly placate his furious friend.  Secretly, the dwarf was glad for the anger.  It meant despair could be fought; it hadn’t won out yet.  “You know what Scholar would say if he were here?”

Hawke turned, biting down his fury, trying not to get caught up in old memories.  Memories of a kid with a black-eye and a smart mouth, who talked a lot about nothing and hid even more.  What never made sense back then was making sudden revelations now, and they brought out equal amounts of sadness and anger.  Despite his rage, Hawke inclined his head towards Varric, silently asking the dwarf to keep talking.

Varric placed the abused journal in front of Hawke, opened up to another random page that held more drawings than written words.

“Well, first, I believe he’d say something along the lines of ‘fuck you, how dare you throw my shit around?’ which would then delve into a scowl,” Varric announced, pitching his voice to be slightly more upbeat than before.  “Afterwards, he’d tell you to calm down.  I think his words for it would be ‘chill out’.  Maybe throw a ‘fuck’ in there somewhere.”

It was unintentional, but Hawke laughed.  It was a short, surprised laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.  Varric grinned briefly, before sobering.

“Hawke,” his firm statement of the name brought the man’s eyes up, and the two men held each other’s stares.  “Fitz is coming back, we _will_ find a way.  It’s only a matter of time.  Don’t let your mind tell you otherwise.”

“And how long before it’s too late, then?” Hawke shot back, challenging his friend, though he was really just asking for reassurance.  “We aren’t meant to be in the Fade, and yet Fitz is–”

“Fitz isn’t like us,” Varric reminded him, gently.  “If magic can’t even hurt him, what does that say about the Fade?  He was looking pretty good towards the end, didn’t you notice?  Standing tall, at ease.  Better than any of us…”  The dwarf trailed off, not quite sure what to make of his observations.  He hoped it meant good things, but he honestly had no clue.

Hawke shook his head, arguments on the tip of his tongue, but Varric didn’t let him speak.

“Do you think you shooting back ‘what if’s’ are really going to help matters?” Varric demanded, giving his friend a rather severe look.  “You know it won’t.  So, why don’t you get rid of the doubts, and put your worry to better use instead?  Like finding Fitz.”

Varric pushed the journal closer to Hawke, before standing up.  He hadn’t said his piece harshly, just firmly, and he had enough of sitting around a dark room dwelling on misery.  He made sure Hawke had taken a good, long look at the journal laid out in front of him; at the page full of drawings.

Hawke couldn’t believe he’d missed it, must’ve gotten too caught up in the words to notice all of the pictures at some point.  But, his eyes weren’t playing tricks.  In the bottom right hand corner of a page full of drawings, mostly depicting plants and animals though there was some slanted script, was a rough sketch of a man; a man who bore an eerie similarity to the very same person currently staring at the page in awe. 

He only had a rough estimate of when Fitz had started writing down his thoughts.  It seemed to have started off with Fitz’ early journeys around Ferelden, but those were sparse and usually just contained pictures of wildlife.  It seemed like Fitz didn’t actually start writing down his thoughts and feelings in earnest until he had joined the Inquisition.  The past, the memories, couldn’t have been recorded any earlier than around the time the Breach was sealed once and for all.  Hawke didn’t rightly know, and he made a note to discuss dates with Varric.  Fitz didn’t ascribe to recording dates, apparently, and absolutely no specific days, numbers or months, appeared in any of the passages he wrote.  Nor were any of the drawings dated or labeled properly. 

It was just another thing to tell Fitz off for later.  The little bastard.

Still, in that moment, a small sketch of himself, undoubtedly drawn back in a time long before the two of them had reunited, was enough to steady Hawke’s breath.  There were faint smudges around the page, and the corners were frayed as though that particular page was constantly being turned and held.  He didn’t really have to think about it too hard; Hawke’s heart warmed up immediately and he felt inextricably tender, as he almost always ended up feeling when Fitz was involved.

Hawke was trying very hard not to lose himself in the despair that nevertheless had him tied down.

It wasn’t easy, but he wouldn’t let it win. 

~

“Little creature, how long do you think you can hide?  You can’t hide forever, not from me.”

It was taunting me.

“I just want to talk, so won’t you show yourself?  No need for those nasty little knives of yours.  I’m sure you can be reasoned with.”

The voice came from everywhere, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  No matter how much the fucking thing talked, I just couldn’t get used to the sheer invasiveness of it.  It felt like the demon was in my _mind_ each time it spoke.

“You aren’t as good at hiding as you think you are.  _I can hear you_.”

After it finished kicking and screaming over the loss of the victim it truly desired, meaning my dear friend Amrita, the Nightmare took to talking again.  Talking to me, appealing to me.

I fucking hated it, but slashing at its legs was getting me absolutely nowhere.  Like, yeah, it’s fan-fucking-tastic stabbing the thing and hearing it scream in pain, but in the sense of actually killing the fucker?  I was getting exactly jackshit done.

I couldn’t just keep attacking it over and over again either.  I got tired.  I felt good, which was still weird, but the Fade didn’t throw me some free goddamn endurance just because my chronic headache was gone.  This wasn’t a fucking video game; I needed to take a breather every once and a while, yeah? 

So, once the rift was gone for good, once I was certain of it, I ran and hid.  From then on, it was guerrilla warfare at best, and cowardly drive-bys at worst.  My strength was still with me, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was physical.  Especially not when physical meant repeatedly attacking a big-ass demon with only a sword and dagger.  My arms were killing me. 

So, I hid. 

Despite its creepy words, I found that the demon had next to no skill at tracking me when I was out of sight.  And when I didn’t want to be found.  It was easy to run away from it, and it was easy to climb to the top of a tall rock as well. 

I climbed the tallest rock I could find; one of the tall boulders that lined the little area that had previously served as a fighting ring, back when we were all still gunning for the rift.  Now, though, it apparently served as my own jungle gym.

It wasn’t even like the demon could hurt me, hence the psychological torture it was attempting to scar me with.  It still couldn’t stand to touch me, just as it couldn’t stand me touching _it_.  I didn’t have time to think about the why in this equation, but I did have time to think of a way to kill it.  Just had to use my oddity as an advantage.

“Do you really think you can kill _me_?  Do you really believe, even if you somehow manage to succeed, that I won’t come back?  It will take time, but what is time to you anymore?”  My good old pal Nightmare’s deep voice rose with anger, and I knew my continued elusiveness was grating its nerves.  Good. 

“You can try to kill me, little creature, but I will only return.  And you will still be _here_.  I wonder if you will be so untouchable after a century of being locked in here?  I look forward to–”

“Fuck you!” I shouted, as my sword broke through the thing’s back.  It was already screeching, had started as soon as I got the drop on it.  Nightmare had wandered way too close to my hiding spot, making it so that all I had to do was jump and land on top of the fucking thing, which I did.  I stopped it mid-threat, sinking my sword, and then my free hand, through its fucking back without hesitating. 

My fist broke through its skin just as it had done to that lesser demon before, back when we were all still moving towards the rift.  Of course, the Nightmare didn’t just immediately dissipate like the little demon, but goddamn did it shake and fall.  The demon fell forward, the ground shuddering as it collapsed completely and utterly.  I almost went flying as the thing fell, but, as luck would have it, I stayed seated.

My arm was elbow deep when the demon finally stopped screeching, but I twisted the sword some more just to be sure.  I thought pulling my arm out would be disgusting, blood-and-guts sort of thing, but it was fine.  I can’t say clean, but my arm wasn’t covered in demon goop.

I lost myself a little after that; I stabbed the demon a couple more times before finally rolling off.  I hadn’t actually expected to down the thing; distract it from Amrita?  Yeah, but not actually succeed in killing it.  I’m not complaining, I’m actually really glad.  I didn’t want to hear that thing say another goddamn word again. 

“Not gonna be a century, dickbag,” I spat, finally finding my dagger as the last remnants of the monster disappeared in thin air; it had been lodged in its belly after one of my previous attacks and I just hadn’t been able to get it back.  As I reached down to pick up my dagger, I tried to shake off all the words Nightmare had thrown at me, and that final taunt, but I didn’t succeed.  Not really.  I had my dagger back though, and the feel of its hilt was comforting in my grasp.  It’s all in the little things.

I walked over to where the rift once sat, on top of a ledge that overlooked the rest of this swampy area.  There was nothing; no mark that a rift ever laid there, and I could see nothing on the horizon either.  It was all so empty, and I felt myself lose grip on reality.  Just for a moment.

It’s a hollow feeling; to be on your own, in some desolate hellscape, with no prospects of escape.  Time had absolutely no meaning here, and I never tried keeping count.  Not like there’s a sun and moon to help things along.

I never really appreciated stars before. 

I’m willing to bet no one has, not until all you got hanging over you are some goddamn ominous rocks that looked more forbidding than mysterious.  I kept feeling like they’d just up and fall on top of me.  And, I swear to god, I’d take back every bad thing I ever said about the Storm Coast if it meant I’d see even the slightest bit of blue sky.  Anything but this green smog from hell.

I didn’t stay in Nightmare’s place for long, or at least I don’t think it did.  I waited around, sure, but then time kept passing, and nothing kept happening, and I just got so fucking restless. 

I stayed where I was, until I knew for sure that I’d go out of my mind just sitting around.  

I didn’t know if Nightmare would come back, if it would decide to reclaim its dank lair, so I moved on.  No use waiting around for worse things to settle in; this part of the Fade was probably ripe for the picking, or some shit like that. 

No one came to get me, so I started walking.

~

_What are you?  You have no place here…you shouldn’t be._

Tell that to my mother, man.  Actually, she’d probably agree with you.  Huh.

_You joke, but you have no idea…they would call me an abomination, but do they have any idea the word is more suited for you?  A little piece of an unknown realm, crawling around in a place its very being corrupts…how quick do you think they would be to kill you then?_

“It’s all in your head, man,” I said, loudly.  As if sound would kill the voices rolling around my brain.  It kind of helped.

“A fuckin’ headcase now, huh?  Hearin’ voices tellin’ ya how awful you are?” I muttered to myself, swinging my arms a bit as I walked.  “Pfft, they could at least be original.  Just recyclin’ the good old ‘Fitz, you useless bastard, get a life’ mantra.  Same shit I been tellin’ myself since I was a kid.  Hah, like, what the fuck?”

Demons talk like they’re in your head.  Sometimes it was hard to tell if it was just me, or if I really did have one of those guys on my tail.

I couldn’t just slide by demons’ sights, or senses or whatever.  Not if I wasn’t careful about it. 

I could hide if I wanted, if I had the presence to think about it, but as soon as I got too close or too loud, those fuckers’ would have their beady little eyes set on me.  

And they were always so interested to find me.  Just as I was always interested in getting the hell away from them.  My saving grace was that they still couldn’t touch me.  Some of them tried, but my touch apparently feels like fire to them and they always just back away in the end.  And I always just kept going on my way.  Some tried to follow me, get in my head (they’re kind of good at that, unfortunately), but I made a skill out of disappearing.  Their attentions couldn’t stay on me for too long; out of sight, out of mind.  Reminded me of Cole, if the kid hadn’t went down the road to human hell. 

I wondered how long it’d been, since I landed in this shitty situation.  I wondered if they forgot about me, if it’d been a crazy long time or something.  I couldn’t keep track of time, and I was beginning to think I would never know.  Just wander around here for the end of time, maybe as karma.  For being a bad person or something.  It would be fitting if everybody just gave up on me, and forgot. 

Made me wonder if Nightmare forgot about me too, wherever the hell that thing was nowadays. 

I don’t know what I thought would happen after the portal closed behind Amrita; after I became effectively trapped in this metaphysical realm with no ideas on how to get out.  Maybe I thought I’d get out soon, somehow, but time just went on, and on.  Or not, depending on whatever the fuck time was in this fucking hole.

And all I could do was keep moving.

I was kind of hoping I’d come across a rift, maybe just pop out into Thedas.  I already knew I could push past any demons vying for the chance to get at the other side.  I don’t know. 

That’d be too easy, though.  Asking for too much.

The longer I was here, the longer I had the Fade saturating my very being, the more surreal it all felt.  I was losing focus, losing my mind.  Nah, that’s too dramatic.  I had my mind, it was just that my thoughts were all jumbled, and that’s normal.

Everywhere looked the same in the beginning, but I got used to it.  Kind of. 

Nightmare really camped out in the fucking Sahara of the demon world, the fucking loser.  Or Jersey, he totally set up camp in the Jersey of the Fade; a place meant only for assholes, crippling fear, and hatred.  Sounds about right.

But, I guess I walked long enough, because I did eventually come across some changes in the scenery.  It was subtle at first, and the green always stayed the same, just at varying levels of intensity, but it was a goddamn change.

The first time I saw pillars and archways rather than grimy boulders, I nearly cried.  Did cry.  Thought of crying?  It was emotional.

I liked how this area felt.  Less gloom and doom.  Less creepy-crawlies-hiding-around-every-corner feeling, you know?  It felt like…safe?  More like…

Home?

I don’t know, that’s crazy. 

I headed for the pillars and arches anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chap, life keeps doin stuff and I wanted to be extra sure of this chapter, just 'cuz it's so different from what I'm used to. I tried to make this whole thing artfully skippy, I just felt like it went with all the turmoil/crazy shit going on.  
> Anyways! I hope you like the chapter! I really loved hearing from you all last chapter, I was so happy that it was well-received (I'd been gearing up for it for a while)! And, of course, I would love to hear any criticisms/thoughts/feelings that you have! Thank you so much for reading! :)
> 
> ANDD...MORE FANART! PLEASE TAKE A LOOK! <3  
> [happysnowdragon drew a profile of Fitz!](https://www.dropbox.com/s/p48p3zadt663u3a/FITZ2.png?dl=0)  
> [[added on 03.27.16]] ~ [NeoHH10 drew an Easter pic!](http://sta.sh/0pwy98mfu7p)
> 
> ps: I just made a playlist for Fitz and Hawke; it's just some of the songs that get me writing and thinking about these two! So if you're interested and wanna listen to some potentially new music, [here it is](http://8tracks.com/forprussia/for-fitz)
> 
> [[also bc i'm trash and cant help myself here's real footage of my brain when writing the scene where Amrita falls from the Fade and rift closes - Hawke: "Open the Rift, stop having it be closed"]]] ;p;


	50. Act III: Fine Line Between Hope and Fade

The further I walked, the less dark everything became, and it was such a relief.  I had almost forgotten what it was like to see bright colors, even though it seemed like only white and light greys were prominent in this area.  Even if they made my eyes squint a little bit.  

I didn’t have to walk long before I came up to a sprawling courtyard of sorts.  There was a short staircase leading up to the courtyard, which seemed to hover over the ground rather than simply laying on it.  I took the stairs slowly, with careful movements, all the way up to the top, and then I just stared.

It was a large area, and I was sort of disappointed at how empty the whole thing was.  It was encased by these stone walls that only came up to my waist and there were four pillars that rose high above me and disappeared into a mist that hung in the air.  At the center of the courtyard was a circular table that had a couple of big chairs surrounding it.  It was really rich-looking, like something an Orlesian noble would own; the table was stupidly ornate, as were the chairs.  Like, they had gems and shit on them, along with these plush cushions for the chairs.  

I almost didn’t notice the spirit.  It was so faint, and it was always moving, but I had taken no more than a few steps onto the wide stretch of marble flooring before it became apparent that I was not alone.

The spirit went about its business like I wasn’t even there, so I went about mine.  I had not seen any spirits so far, or at least I don’t think I had, but I hoped this one was at least neutral, if not good.  Preferably the ‘leave me alone’ type.

My mouth was slightly agape at the sight before me.  I had become so used to gloomy swamps that to see something as regal as stone pillars and shiny floors, the sight was making me feel a little off balance.  I stared, unable to help myself from walking further into the open space.

I sat on one of the tall chairs, just to see if it was a plush as it looked.  It was, and I stayed there for a bit, with my head resting against the high-back of the chair, just staring up at the mist that completely blocked out the green.  I almost jumped out of my skin when the spirit finally decided to talk to me.

Actually, I did jump.  I hopped right out of my chair and turned to face the thing that was now paying me pretty close attention.

“At first, I had resolved to ignore you,” the spirit said, its shimmering form hovering a scant few feet from where I stood.  “I thought you might reach out to me, to state your intentions.  When you didn’t do so, I assumed you to be a lesser being, insignificant and possibly incapable of speech.  But, then I felt it.”  The spirit inched closer to me and I stepped to the side, leading it into a bit of a circle chase.  Only, like, much slower.

I couldn’t tell if it was a demon, I wanted to say it wasn’t; just because it wasn’t fucking attacking me right off the bat, you know?  Wasn’t talking a whole bunch of shit, trying to mentally cripple me either.  Yet.

But, hell, I’ve read so many conflicting theories on the demon-spirit thing since coming to Thedas, and none of it ever made much sense.  And, then I learned even more from Solas (that honestly sounded kind of fake, but whatever), and it all made even less sense.  I just wanted the things to stop being attracted to how _different_ I was.  I was used to being ignored, not seen, like how it had been when I was in Thedas.  This constant fascination bullshit was all too weird.

I couldn’t make out facial expressions on the damn thing, because it didn’t really have a face.  It looked like a ghost.  I guess that’s to be expected though, what with the whole not-being-human part, but it was still creepy.  Intimidating.

“Your presence is unlike any I have ever come across.  And I can assure you, I am far older than you can even imagine.”  It spoke like it was some kind of authority, like it knew everything, which automatically got on my nerves a little.  I felt like it was looking down on me. 

“If my senses are still correct, you are quite young, are you not?”

I didn’t answer.  I had my sword out, not my dagger though, and I held it at my side.  It didn’t matter that it couldn’t touch me, I wasn’t up for playing around anymore.  The spirit shifted, phasing to the left and right as if it were getting a better look at me.

“I am correct,” it announced, after letting the silence draw out between us for a good while.  “Tell me, little one, what sort of creature are you?”

My body twitched involuntarily at the word ‘creature’.  I couldn’t stop myself from reacting, and I couldn’t stop the way my breathing picked up as well, but I swallowed it down; forcibly, and without really thinking. 

“Elf, thanks.  Uh, or human.  Take your pick,” I shot back, unable to stay silent any longer.  I stepped to the side, just to see what the spirit would do, but it’s only reaction was to turn slightly so that it was still facing me.  It didn’t try to move any closer.

“I sense none of the old blood from you,” it replied, almost holding a skeptical tone with me.  “Yours is different, newer…unnatural.”

I scoffed.  “And the fuck do you know?  I bet you can’t even get in my head.”

The spirit was silent for a moment, and I almost started to grin.  But, then it spoke.

“It’s faint…but there all the same.  It may be that lesser creatures have no mind to hear you, but I am by no means weak,” the spirit said, with a definite edge to its voice. 

I got the distinct sense that it wanted me to understand that I was not messing around with some Shade demon or whatever; it wanted me to know that is was powerful.  I edged further to the side, near one of the pillars that boxed in this little patio-esque place.  The spirit kept talking.

“Your soul breathes as though it never before touched the Fade.  There is no trace of its essence in you at all, and…if one were to lose focus, you would simply fall into the scenery, seamlessly.  Only the most skilled of us are afforded that kind of ability.”

“Eh,” I said, drawing the sound out as I looked around the area I was in.  Anywhere but at the spirit currently trying to dissect me with supposedly pleasant conversation.  “That’s nice and all, but, like, so fuckin’ what?  You thinkin’ aloud or somethin’?”

“You also speak with the oddest tongue I’ve ever heard,” the spirit replied, with what I liked to think was slight annoyance.  It shifted closer to me, and I squared my shoulders on instinct, sword raised.

“Don’t come near me, got it?” I spat, knowing that I could probably just punch the thing and be fine.  I didn’t want to kill it.  It felt like forever since I’d talked with someone…something…that wasn’t myself.  And it wasn’t trying to torture my head yet, so I had to at least try the whole ‘talking-before-stabbing’ thing.  “I’ve killed a bunch of you motherfuckers, and I don’t even gotta use this shitty-ass sword, ya heard?  You even try to fuck with me, and I’ll kill you.”

The spirit seemed to hum, and it floated away from me, broadening the gap between us as if to show me that it was willing to humor me.  The downside was that it decided to stay moving, like _pacing_.  I almost scowled at it, but instead figured that I would keep talking.

“So, what’s this supposed to be?” I asked, gesturing around at the stone floor and pillars, and at the fancy table set.  They were still all so glaringly white compared to the backdrop of green that I had long since become used to.  I was glad for the mist surrounding me.  I didn’t want to see green anymore.

“It’s mine,” the spirit answered simply, weaving in and out of the pillars as it spoke.  “I modeled it after a memory I found, from long ago, of a young man who bore witness to something great, surrounded by structures such as these.”

“Yeah?  What’d he witness?”

“I do not recall,” it said vaguely, as if it did not really care.  “but I liked it.  I can change it, if you wish.”

“Suck up,” I muttered, deciding to sit myself down on the half-wall that connected the pillars into its square shape.  “How ‘bout you tell me–”

“Are you sure?  If I focus, I can recreate Hawke’s home for you, or Merrill’s, if that is what you prefer.”

I froze, immediately swiveling my head away from the pillar I’d been studying to stare at the spirit.  It hovered a few feet away from me, coming a bit closer when it saw that it had my attention, and it continued to move closer when I failed to become hostile. 

“What?” was all I could say, and the word came out in an ugly croak as my brain began working in overdrive to figure out how far into my head the spirit could get. 

Little demons, like the ones that have been chasing me since I got myself landed here, always liked speaking to me, at me.  I think they could pick up on my insecurities maybe, but never before had they spoke of stuff that went farther than that.  Like my memories, and the people I love.

“Your memories of Kirkwall are strongest.  Do you wish to go back to those days?” it asked, as if I wasn’t currently thinking about stabbing it.

“Dude,” I breathed, jumping down from my ledge.  The spirit didn’t move away, and it was so close to me, I wanted to swat at it just for the hell of it.  “Don’t even.”

The spirit floated left and right, a lulling type of movement that was almost hypnotizing.  The shimmer of its form (non-form?) left a small trail with each glide of its body, a trail that tapered off and slowly disappeared after a short moment.  I almost didn’t catch it, when the thing next spoke.

“You do.  I can hear it from deep within you,” it was saying, while I just stared blankly back at it in return.  "But, you can't go back.  It's too late."

Ouch.  I might've flinched, I don't really know.

“So much regret in one so young, the pain from days long lost cry the loudest in that strange little soul of yours.  You’ve been so alone, for so long.”

I dropped my sword.  I didn’t realize it right away, didn’t even hear it, and when I finally felt its absence in my hand, I really couldn’t care less.  I was focused on the spirit, only a small part of me sending out warning alarms; telling me to run or kill it.  Anything but standing there like an idiot and listening to the fucking thing.

“You have no way of knowing how long you’ve been gone, whether all those friends of yours have moved on or not, and it hurts, doesn’t it?  Because you are stuck in a place where your body transcends the entirety of your surroundings,” it continued, adding on a thoughtful, “As if you were not enough of an oddity before.”

“Stay with me for a time,” it appealed, inching forward slowly, seemingly emboldened by my impression of stone.  “We can talk.  I can help you make sense of things.”

I remained still, jaw set and stomach clenching.

“You won’t be lonely anymore.”

~

Cole sat atop a table, holding onto one of Fitz’ journals, while Hawke and Varric were both seated, on chairs, at the next table over.  The two of them were busy piecing through the multitude tomes that were stacked in teetering piles around them, occasionally taking note of specific passages, but mostly writing them down as useless.

“Hands, pulling tight.  A dagger, carving terror where magic was intended, screaming.  I’m sixteen and I don’t know where I am.  Oh god, I just want my dad, Scott, anyone, just not this, anything but–”

“Maker,” Hawke choked out, nails biting into the flesh of his palms, his chest constricting.  The book he had been reading dropped to the table with a sharp sound, and Hawke just stared down at it without really seeing it. “Why – _why_ would you–”

“Kid, how about you don’t read that thing?  Perhaps you’d prefer something a bit more…mild?” Varric said softly, reaching out a hand for the journal in Cole’s hands.  He handed it over without a fuss, though the kid did wear a slightly confused look. 

As Varric placed Fitz’ journal back on the table, between himself and Hawke, a small bit of comprehension began to creep onto Cole’s features.  He hopped off the table and stood before them with dawning guilt guiding his actions.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t want to hear, but it was there and it was so loud.  I felt it too strongly, and–”

“Don't worry about it, kid.  No apologies needed,” Varric said with a small smile.  “We just…it’s a little hard to hear that right now.  And, it’s not really the place.”

Varric gestured around them, to the quiet library floor.  While not exactly teeming with people, the rotunda still held a few stragglers, including Dorian, who was very much within earshot and most likely heard every bit of that touchy exchange.  However, the man did not look up, just kept flipping pages like a mad man, because like the others, he too was researching.

The day had already passed evening and was dragging into the early hours of the night.  The library did not usually empty until well past nightfall and Hawke knew from experience that a few more hours would still need to pass before the room would be blessedly deserted. 

Cole stayed quiet for a while after Varric had turned back to his own book.  He stared, not at the dwarf, but at Hawke, who was hunched even more and very nearly shaking. 

Cole was slowly getting the hang of being ‘more human’, though it was hard and he still didn’t understand a lot of things and it was still all a bit new to him, but he was trying.  All he wanted to do was help, and he knew that sometimes meant failing and having to try again.

“Fitz will be alright,” he said, the words thick on his tongue, stumbling and stretching.  Thankfully, the next words were easier to get out, “The Inquisitor says she has an idea, someone gave it to her…she knows more than most, and the Inquisitor thinks its promising.  Not set, but it’s there.”

Hawke inclined his head, just to show that he heard, even though he didn’t really have the heart for any more wasted hopes at the moment.

Researching wasn’t a particular skill of his, nor did he know much about the technicalities of magic or the Fade.  And attempting to find a way to access the Fade always led back to magic.  That had always been more up Bethany’s alley, being a mage and all, and then it was Anders’ and Merrill’s niche, but never his. 

Hawke was more of a do-er; he wasn’t necessarily one for theory, magic least of all.  But, he had sat in the Inquisition’s library nearly every day studying, with Dorian not far away and with Solas below them in his little office of sorts, studying his own texts.  They had all looked through a great many tomes just for the slightest hope that one of them might hold an answer, and all of them had failed thus far.

It was frustrating, and depressing, and everything in between.  In the weeks following Adamant, many books had been cursed at, thrown, and dumped in a pile along with the rest of the rejects.  It made Hawke feel useless, since he was accustomed to going out and seizing the answer through force and dogged determination, with two daggers and his friends at his back.  But here he was, in a library of all places, looking for answers that simply were not there in any of the books around them.

Fitz was always the one they found in the library.

Another revelation, that one was.  All those times Hawke had to drag the little bastard out of the Chantry in Kirkwall, while he cried for ten more minutes of reading, and it turns out the kid was looking for something more specific than any of them had ever imagined. 

Cole moved on after saying those few words, and Hawke tried to as well, but found that he couldn’t go back to researching in that moment.  Instead, he scooped up the journal Varric had placed beside him and held it close, just for a moment, ignoring the look his friend shot him.

That night he read it again, as if memorizing the pages would count for something.  As if reading Fitz’ words, candid and just so _honest_ , would take the weight of the man’s absence off of his chest. 

Reading his journals made Hawke feel like he had been granted the most intimate access into Fitz’ head, into all the thoughts and emotions the man used to smother under a scowl and utter nonsense. 

And, if he stayed very still and very intent, Hawke could almost read the words in Fitz’ voice; hearing them from the man himself, rather than from an old page.

~

“I’ve seen your mind before this, Fitz.”

We’d been talking for a while, me and the spirit.  Not about anything important, just idle shit.  And then it decided to throw that out.  I hadn’t even told it my name.

“Did you never wonder about those dreams of yours?  Did it not make you think, when you began to dream so suddenly and so vividly?”

“That…those dreams weren’t vivid,” I said, faintly.  “They were short, and – and they were just memories.  Don’t mean anythin–”

“They were memories that I let you see again,” it said, as if I should be grateful.  I told myself it had to be lying, but the doubts were there all the same.  “And they mean everything, to you at least.”

“I heard your cries, your wants, from across the Veil.  Isn’t that grand?  A being so far removed from our worlds…from their own world…to hear you was to experience something _new_.  It is only right that I was the one to reach out to you, even if you couldn’t tell it was me, because I am the only one who can help you.  Now that you’re here.”

“Dude…” I took a step back, almost faltering, stumbling.  “You’re fucked up.  Like, shit, what’s that mean?  The fuck, man?”

The spirit came closer, and I finally began to worry; wondering if it was stronger than I thought.  It’s always a nerve-wracking thing when you meet someone way more confident than you, and this spirit was making me think it was actually stronger than me.  It didn’t matter that I had gotten used to thinking of myself as invincible.  This spirit was tearing it down with words alone.

“Don’t look so shocked,” it practically laughed at me.  “You _are_ connected to our world now, even if you don't truly fit.  It makes sense that I can see through you now.  Granted, not many can, only those powerful enough.  As I am.” 

I tried keeping my bravado up, but fuck.  I was tired of having to.  Demons, and now this motherfucker.  It was always an endless cycle of mental abuse with these fuckers, and I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. 

“I can probably even touch you, unlike those shades you so callously slaughtered.  The aura that surrounds you, that pushes us all away…it doesn’t look so strong now.”

The thing was wrong, of course, and I knew this because I’m pretty sure the spirit tried to put its filthy metaphysical hands on me.

The odd screech it made as it flung itself away from me was hilarious, so fucking funny (though, to be fair, I was looking at this through slightly crazed lenses) that I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.  I didn’t see the spirit for a moment, like it had disappeared or something, but then it was back; practically glaring at me.  Or, at least, that’s what it felt like.

“What were you sayin’, man?” I asked obnoxiously, still laughing.  “ _Shit_ , my aura weak or what?”  I let out another peal of laughter, while the spirit stared me down.

“I will admit,” it finally said, starting off slowly.  “your body is certainly stubborn.  It still repels that which surrounds you, but how long do you think that will last?  Your mind certainly didn't.”

“Everything breaks down, as you well know,” it told me. 

It sounded angry, but it wasn’t moving or showing any other kind of hostility, so I figured it was safe to let it talk.  I was kind of held by its words anyways.  Probably couldn't move if I wanted to.  

“It will not be long before that small part of you is overcome by the sheer power of this place.  All it took was a _Breach_ to make you vulnerable to magic, yes?  I doubt this will be much different.”

I felt cold, and a shudder went down my body as I replayed the spirit’s words over again.  It hadn’t said anything new, nothing I hadn’t already thought myself, but it was still eerie to hear it repeated.  It was almost like a confirmation that every natural bit of resistance in my body would be broken down, someday.  You know, if you believe spirit talk or whatever.

“You think?” I threw out, weakly trying to shrug off the thing’s words.  “I dunno, man…I – I’m feelin’ pretty good here.  Nothin’ can fuckin’ touch me.  As _you_ well know.”

The spirit flickered, reappearing in a spot slightly to the left of where it had previously been hovering.  I wondered if that was a sign of emotion, and I bitterly hoped it was.  I hoped it was pissed, and my own sudden anger emboldened me.  I could finally move again.

“You know what I think?” I asked, taking a step forward and relishing in the way the spirit backed away.  It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but I had been watching for it.  “I think I’m stronger than the Fade.  You guys ain’t worth shit, yeah?  Where I’m from, we don’t have you guys – you’re fuckin’ _obsolete_ – and we don’t fuckin’ need you.”

I was so angry; I just wanted to scream and yell, like a child.  I wanted to take it out on this spirit, for being such a dick, but also because of all the other assholes in this world who'd been trying to get in my head since day one of arriving here.  I was sick and tired of fighting it.  I was just so fucking done.  So, I screamed.  Like a child.

“Maybe we evolved past you fucks, maybe we never had you to begin with, but that shit don’t matter.  You can’t tell me nothin’, ‘cuz you don’t know a fuckin’ thing.  You’re just shooting shit that you thinks gonna fuck me up even more.  You never had anything to do with those dreams I had, you just fuckin’ met me!  You think you fuckin’ got me and you fuckin’ don’t, you fake-ass motherfucker.”

The spirit practically flew away from me, but all I did was walk past it.  I didn’t bother trying to kill it, I just kept walking.  Right out of that damn pavilion we were on, down the stairs, and forward.

When I reached the steps, I yelled one last thing at it from over my shoulder, “So, fuck you!  Just stay the hell away from me and maybe I won’t kill your ass.”

I thought that’d be it.  I thought the spirit, or maybe it was really a demon, would leave me alone after that. 

I didn’t think it’d follow me after my threat and insult filled tantrum, and I didn’t think I’d be glad of it.

But, I was.  I didn’t want to be alone anymore. 

~

The tavern was full-up by sundown, which was not unusual in the slightest.  The Inquisition had grown a lot since its conception, both in power as well as in numbers, and this was shown quite clearly in the fact that not a chair was left empty on a weekday evening.  Indeed, no table located within the place was free, and no person roamed the floor without a mug in their hands.

Hawke sat at a particularly busy table, though he didn’t seem all that interested by the goings-on around him.  Varric was by his side, as usual, and the dwarf was more active by far in the whole talking and social participation department.  He had made it his goal a long time ago to stick by Hawke, through thick and thin, and he refused to let his friend go through this new, crueler, heartbreak on his own. 

There wasn’t much Varric could do, not really, but let it be said that he was absolutely doing everything possible to take Hawke’s mind off of his missing lover.  Even if it meant forcing him to be in public places, rather than holed up in his room for all eternity.

“Hey, Hawke,” the dwarf leaned over to nudge his melancholic friend, wearing a grin on his face that was only slightly forced.  “You want in on this?  There’s no way Dalish can chug that entire barrel.  Bet a silver–”

“No,” Hawke cut in, faking a quick smile back to his friend.  Varric meant well, and Hawke was _trying_ , but it was hard.  It was all he could do to just sit there.  “I am content to watch, but by all means…empty your purse in whatever wise manner you choose.”

Varric scoffed, before turning back to the table and calling out a challenge to the elf who looked ready to stand on top of the table, if not for the hands needed to keep her steady in her seat.  Hawke went back to drinking his mug of awful beer, quickly and with only the slightest grimace showing on his face, and then he ordered another. 

The past month had been rough, and even Hawke would readily admit that he was really not all right.  Everything was a struggle and, for a while, it was hard just to get out of bed in the mornings.  Just as it was difficult to fall asleep at night.

The not-knowing, the fear, of what Fitz was up to was a constant reminder of the day Hawke fell out of that blighted rift, alone.  Each day, his mind brought up the look that had been on Fitz’ face as the man planted both hands on Hawke’s chest and _pushed_ , and like an echo, the words Fitz had uttered played over and over again through Hawke’s head; haunting him, day in and day out. 

Hawke was used to seeing Fitz’ stubborn face; so used to it, it wasn’t even funny.  But, during that moment in the Fade, he saw much more than just the familiar set jaw and squinty eyes that were _so_ _Fitz_.  Usually rude words accompanied that look, lies or sarcasm or maybe both, but this time there was desperation and sadness in those features; emotions Hawke was loathe to remember, for they tore at his heart.  It was the desperation that had taken Hawke off-guard, forcing him to forget everything else; the Nightmare and the others, just to watch those emotions playing out on Fitz’ face.

And, then there were the words.  Those words were just another punch to the gut, as if everything else weren’t enough.

Of course, Hawke now knew _why_ Fitz decided he had to be the one to stay behind; why he was the only one who stood a chance of surviving.  Hawke didn’t even remotely agree with it, would never agree with that decision, but he understood, if a bit unwillingly. 

Demons ignored Fitz because of whatever otherworldliness that still clung to him, that existed in every fiber of his being, and that meant he was the safest bet.  The safest sacrifice.

Fitz stood a chance at not dying, at not becoming blighted.  Hawke knew the other man’s line of thinking well, just as he knew Fitz had chosen to force Hawke away, yet again.

There was more to it than that, he realized, but it was a decision Fitz had made all the same, and it was a decision that he had yanked forcibly from Hawke’s own hands as well.  And it was _infuriating_ ; it gnawed on Hawke’s every nerve. 

He wondered what happened to staying together, by each other’s sides.  What happened to allowing a person to make their own decisions, rather than forcing one onto them?  Fitz had spoken at large about the freedom to choose one’s own path, to not let anyone make it for him, but had that only applied to _him_? 

Where, in all of that, does it say that Hawke was not entitled to the same treatment, the same right? 

With these thoughts, Hawke found himself getting _angry_ at the bastard of a man he had fallen in love with, and perhaps it was an anger born more out of necessity than any sort of irreversible rage. 

Reading Fitz’ journals had put him through a shock of sorts, leaving him more thoughtful and distracted than angry and sad, but it was beginning to wear off.  The reemergence of anger relieved him greatly; it meant he wasn’t too far gone yet.  And, to put it simply, anger made it easier to think about Fitz as well, as it was an emotion he usually felt in relation to the younger man.  That same worried anger had carried him through many years, when they were together as well as apart, and maybe anger wasn’t even the right word at all, but it’s the one that made the most sense.

To be angry meant he cared, and to lose that anger would be like saying goodbye, which wasn’t something Hawke was going to be doing anytime soon.

~

“So, do you know Solas?”

If the spirit could, I bet it would’ve blinked at me.  I’d just gone for a total non-sequitur in the conversation realm, sure, but whatever. 

I’d gotten over my tantrum, partially mollified by the spirit’s silent company.  It hadn’t tried anything else, hadn’t said _anything_.  It just trailed after me and I was oddly comforted by it, for reasons I didn’t really know or understand. 

God, I _must’ve_ been in here for a long time if I was breaking this quickly.  I just wanted to talk to someone.  Anyone.  Even a spirit-demon-thing who’d just tried to convince me of my impending doom.  Who probably wanted to, like, eat my _heart_ or something weird like that.

“No,” it said after a short pause.  “The name escapes me.”

“Huh,” I said.  “Bald elf?  Kinda tall, I guess?  Ugly clothes?”

The spirit didn’t answer, which I think was the equivalent to a shake of the head in human-speak. 

I shrugged.  Figured I’d at least ask, just in case.  I thought Solas was pretty popular here, but I guess he’s either a lying liar or the Fade is really big and I shouldn’t assume he’s buddy-buddy with all that lives here.  Of course, the latter makes more sense since everybody knows about how vast the Fade is.  I could remember reading about it, a long time ago, and how it was supposed to outreach Thedas by, like, _a lot_ , so I guess there was no way for one guy to be universally known.  Be kind of like asking someone from California if they’d met…some actor or something. 

It would have helped me out though, and it was worth a try.  Wishful thinking and all that.

“Oh well,” I said, kicking at a weird-looking rock that lay in my path.  It flew into the air, not like a real rock would but more like a piece of paper.  I watched it flutter for a moment, before I resumed my aimless walking.  “So, how does one go about getting out of here then?

“Is that what you truly want?”

“Uh, duh?” I replied, making sure to sound extra sarcastic, just so that the spirit knew how stupid it sounded.

It hummed.  “I wonder why that is.  You have so much anxieties there.  Forgive me for bringing it up, I just feel your emotions so strongly, little one.”  The spirit floated around me, still keeping a good few feet between us.

“So many fears, I can barely sift through them all.  And so _loud_.  I do not understand why you wish to go back to that, whereas if you remained here–”

“What’d I fuckin’ say, bro?” I grumbled, throwing a scowl at the thing, though it didn’t really have any heat to it.  I decided to ignore its words, sighing and tiredly rubbing at my eyes as I walked.  “Man…if you wanna hang, you can’t – you gotta cut the shit.  Okay?  I _can’t_ stay here so don’t even…got it?”

It didn’t comment on the way I had all but begged it to stop; a pleading tone coloring my words in a way that even I couldn’t ignore.  The spirit did ignore it though and for that, I was desperately grateful.

I wanted to continue forgetting about how tired of I was.  How I was _this_ close to giving up.  I just wanted to pretend for a little while longer; that I was stronger than this.

The spirit stayed quiet after my weak rebuff.  We both did.

~

“Yeah, Inquisitor approved my request just today,” Krem was saying to the table at large, grinning around at his men as he delivered the good news.  “Chargers have another mission at last.  We head for Adamant as soon as you bastards can be ready.”

Hawke nearly broke his neck turning to face the man talking, ears ringing at the cursed word that had just fallen upon them.  He leaned forward and to the right, forcing Varric to pull away from the table lest the man wanted to get a face-full of his friend’s broad shoulders.  Hawke was suddenly very invested in the conversation at hand, and that was not necessarily a good thing.

The dwarf’s attention had been caught by Krem’s announcement as well, and he had turned his attention towards the other man at the same time as Hawke, though his reaction wasn’t quite as enraged.  Rather, Varric could feel his stomach dropping as he anticipated the storm that was to come.

“Why?” Hawke demanded; voice loud, making it impossible for anyone to miss his abrupt integration to the conversation taking place. 

The Chargers looked at him, with varying levels of surprise as the man had been largely silent since the night began.  The Iron Bull, seated at the other end of the table, straightened up as he too prepared himself for a possible outburst.  He had been making eyes at a serving girl from across the room and, as a result, almost missed the change in topic at his own table.  

However, since the Iron Bull never misses anything, he quickly pieced together the very disastrous potential of cluing Hawke into the Charger’s newest mission.  He almost elbowed Krem, to shut the man up, when he realized what his lieutenant was about to bring up, but it was too late.  The man had said the damned word, and Hawke hooked onto it with vicious speed.

Krem frowned, but answered, “Going to make sure no one can make use of it.  Demons, Venatori, any of those bastards could use it as a fort as it stands now.  We’re gonna make it inhabitable.”

At any other time, Krem’s words would have sparked a cheer or two, but since everyone at the table knew too much, knew exactly why Hawke was glaring and scowling at their lieutenant like he had been personally attacked by the other man, no one so much as whispered.

An awkward hush fell over the table, which Hawke proceeded to break ruthlessly.

“That’s wonderful,” he said sarcastically, fists clenching.  “Will you be looking to strengthen the Veil while you’re there?  Perhaps make it so Fitz can never come back?”

The tavern was still louder than all hell, but that single table in the back corner of the bar was dead silent.  Faces turned down and away, bodies shifting with discomfort as Hawke’s words acted like a curse upon them all.  Krem cringed, but just lowered his head rather than answer the angered man.

Varric had cringed as well, and knew it was time to save the night from more awkwardness.

“Hawke,” he sighed, sadly.  “You know that’s not what they’ll be doing.  And you know Adamant doesn’t have anything to do with where Scholar is now.”

“Don’t give me that,” Hawke scoffed.  “ _You_ know damned well how vulnerable that place is.  We could all feel how weak the Veil was there.  It’s a beacon for demons to come through.  Strengthen that and we might as well write Fitz off for good.”

That last sentence fell like a bomb, cruel not only to himself but to all of the others within earshot.  Varric found it hard to recover, but he forced himself to pretend that Hawke’s words had made no sense at all.

“Maker’s shit, Hawke.  You think the Veil isn’t weak in other places?  Talk to Chuckles, he’ll tell you every damned spot where the Veil so much as trembles.”  Varric spoke with a certain harshness that Hawke needed.  It wasn’t the time for being gentle; Hawke probably wouldn’t have it, even if Varric tried.  “Scholar can get through another way, it doesn’t have to be Adamant.  Shit, the kid probably wouldn’t even _want_ it to be that place.”

“We don’t know that for certain.  What if it has to be Adamant?” Hawke replied without missing a beat; shifting around to face his friend completely, and ignoring the presence of others for the time being.  “We have been searching for how long now?  And we have yet to find even the slightest clue on how to reach into the Fade.  Adamant is the only connection we have as of this moment.”

Varric didn’t immediately respond, didn’t really know how to reply in the first place.  His friend was clutching at straws that didn’t really have anything to do with how to save Fitz from the Fade.  And even Varric, smooth-talking extraordinaire, was at a loss on how to convince his best friend of that fact.  He didn’t know what Hawke would do if he lost that single idea, that Fitz could only pop out from some part of Adamant Fortress, rather than anywhere on this Maker damned earth.  If only they had more leads, more hopes, maybe this wouldn’t be so crucial to the man.

But the very real reality of the situation was that Fitz could be anywhere.  There was no telling where he could be, though Maker knows there were enough people trying to find a way that would figure it out.  The truth of the matter was that they just didn’t know yet.

This sort of magic, this sort of situation, was not a popular one; there were not tomes upon tomes of descriptions telling readers how to access the Fade, locate one particular person, and get out in one piece, not at all worse for wear.  No, this sort of thing hadn’t been studied at any sort of length and what descriptions did in fact exist were subject to fabrication at best, and the Inquisition was struggling to unravel this problem.

The Inquisitor had told Varric of how the research was going, when he had sought her out to ask, and it was bleak.  It did not help that the woman had other problems to attend to; time and circumstance dividing her attentions every which way, with her advisors piling task after task on her already busy schedule.  She had to delegate most of the research onto teams of researchers, magical and otherwise, but their efforts were not proving fruitful.

Varric hadn’t told any of this to Hawke.  He physically couldn’t. 

All he could do was wait, and hope that when their old friends finally arrived, shit would actually happen.  Even then, the dwarf couldn’t shake the ominous feeling of doubt that shrouded his mind.  It was beginning to feel like the Fade would remain as impenetrable as it always had been, despite the Inquisitor’s current track record of walking the damned place twice in a relatively short period of time.

But, it’s not like Varric would share these dreadful thoughts with Hawke.  He would rather remain painfully optimistic than say anything to push Hawke further down the hole he was already in. 

There had to be a way.  Everything always worked out in the end; maybe not always as they planned it, or even how they wanted, but everything always worked out.

It had to.

The next moment, a few things happened.  All for the better, thankfully.

Varric opened his mouth, to spew comfort and sense at his grief-ridden friend, and the Iron Bull started up another conversation to draw the Charger’s attentions away from the two of them.  And then there was the group of three people, two women and one man, who walked into the tavern in a flurry of movement that drew a great many eyes onto their entrance.

“Oh!” exclaimed the curvy woman leading the band of three, placing her hands on her hips as she observed the bar with an expert eye.  “Quaint, a bit boring looking.  I expected more, perhaps, from this famous Inquisition.  But, I suppose it’s not that bad.”

“Not bad?  But, Bela, it’s quite nice,” came the second woman, a thin elf who seemed to be clinging to the first woman without really noticing.  “I don’t see a speck of blood, and all of the walls are intact!  It really is very nice.”

Bela huffed, “If you like that sort of thing.  It’s all rather ‘blah’ to me.  Practically screams ‘law and order’.  Bo- _ring_.”

The man, standing behind the other two, had his eyes already locked onto the table in the back, just past the bar where drinks were flowing out to the many patrons of the packed tavern. 

“If you two are done critiquing,” he finally spoke, dryly and completely unamused with the other two’s antics, though he was very much used to them.  “Perhaps, we may greet our friends rather than remain loitering in the doorway.”

“Of course, Fenris.  As you wish,” Bela said with a slightly mocking purr, and she led the way to the very table Fenris had been staring so intently at.

Varric saw them coming, had noticed them as soon as they entered seeing as nearly half the tavern had stopped to look at three newcomers in the first place.  He was already standing up as they neared, calling out a greeting to his friends, while Hawke followed suit.

The five of them met half-way, and the elven woman wasted no time in flinging her arms around the bigger man, hugging him tightly and with more strength than one would think.  Hawke stooped a little, to accommodate her hold, and sighed into her hair.

“Oh, Hawke,” she cried into his shoulder.  “I have been thinking of you this whole journey, you poor dear.  We left as soon as we got Varric’s letter, but it seemed to take forever to get here!”

“Hello, Merrill.  It’s been too long,” he replied, before turning his gaze to the other two.  “Fenris. Isabela. It’s good to see you all.”

And he meant it.

 ~

“Maybe…maybe if I stay in one spot, it’ll help them find me?”

I chewed on my bottom lip, not even realizing I was doing so until I tasted the blood on my tongue.  I stopped, mid-step, to look around.  As if I really thought I would see anything new.

It was the same old story, because _of course_ it was.  Everywhere looked the same, only maybe there was a bit more mist than normal.  I don’t fucking know.  It not like I really knew what ‘normal’ was in this place.  Or in general, if I’m gonna be real.

“Hm…” the spirit murmured from a little ways away.  “That’s a possibility.  You could do with a rest, in any case.  You’re wearing thin, little one.”

“Yeah…” I nodded, turning to and fro as I looked for a nice place to sit.  I hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a well-tended garden not too far away from where I currently stood.  I made a small sound of pleased surprise, and immediately headed for the oddly placed patch of tall grasses and flowers.  “Hey, sick, that’s the first greenery I’ve seen in ages.  Uh, not counting that _other_ green, but, like, leaves and–”

“A novelty, yes?” the spirit cut off my rambling with a bright reply, following after me.  “The nature of Earth, in such detail, is hard to reproduce.  You have found a most excellent spot, that is for sure.”

Something, a very faint something, bugged me about the spirit’s words, but I brushed it off as nothing.  I didn’t really care.

“Nice,” I muttered, as I walked through grass for the first time since getting trapped here.  It was weird, and maybe not exactly like how it should’ve been, but sitting down was distinctly comfortable and the flowers smelled so good.

“I like it,” I announced, as I laid myself out on the ground.  I stretched my fingers out, and the blades of grass tickled me, even though I knew I hadn’t really felt anything.  I could pretend it though, just like I could pretend, for just a moment, that I was laying on top of some grassy knoll in the Hinterlands somewhere.  Or even on a hill just outside of Kirkwall.  They were nice thoughts, and they helped me relax.  I was so tired.

“What are you thinking of, may I ask?” the spirit inquired, speaking softly from somewhere above me.  Curious and innocent.

“There was this one time, we went camping and–”

“You and Hawke?”

“Uh-huh.  And Fenris, and Anders.  I think Varric was there too.  For a little while.”  I thought it over for a moment, before decisively saying, “He hates the outdoors.  Like, _a lot_.”

“You were camping?”

“Oh, yeah.  On Sundermount, somewhere.  There were _so many_ trees, and there was a brook…Hawke pushed me in.”  I didn’t really know why, but I felt like crying.  “I was so mad.”

“Is that truly home to you, Fitz?”

I thought about that for what felt like a while, but only shrugged in the end.  My movements were a bit sluggish from how comfortable I felt, and I was beginning to feel sleepy.  Suddenly, I was thinking about how long it’d been since I last slept.

“What about before that?  Can you remember what that was like?”

I shifted, snuggling into the not-grass, and my thoughts were also shifting; away from Kirkwall, and to New York instead.  Yeah, I could remember it really well.  Maybe some of it was hazy, but I grew up there, lived in that city for sixteen years.  Of course, I could remember it.

“You might try sleeping,” the spirit was suggesting, sounding far away.  Its voice was gentle, and I felt a rush of appreciation for it.  “Let yourself relax.”

“What an ordeal you have been through,” it crooned.  “It’ll all feel so much better, once you’ve loosened those binds you tied around yourself.  Just think about what it was like _before_ all this happened.  Before Thedas.  You’ll feel so happy.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, closing my eyes.  It was easier to pretend when I couldn’t see the green sky from high above me, and the rocks that hung there.  Like they weren’t there. 

“Yeah…maybe you’re right.”

~

The wind was loud, as always, in the dungeon that still had a giant hole in the center of the cellblock.  At some point, the Inquisition had begun to take small steps in covering the rather dangerous feature within their very own prison, but other matters had quickly taken precedence and it was quickly forgotten for the time being.

Fitz’ mural still remained, as did a few old bottles of wine and it was extremely likely that those had been left behind by the man as well.  The painting was barely noticeable without an additional torch in the little jail cell, but since there was one, the mural was perfectly lit up for the two men currently standing before it.

Hawke stood there with a torch in hand, as he had many times before this, only this time was different because Fenris was by his side.  They were both silent as they gazed at the painting; Hawke with eyes that already knew every inch, and Fenris for the first time.  The pictures were just as confusing as before, despite the fact that Fitz’ journals served as a simple explanation for what the mural truly depicted.

It was just hard to see it as a real scene; it looked too imaginary, too fabricated, to be an actual city. 

Both men had seen quite a few cities in their years, had seen their fair share of buildings that seemed to be taller than mountains and scenes that could never extend to small towns and villages.  They had seen masses of people, colors, and odd innovations that always seemed to flourish in big cities, but Fitz’ painting was different than all of that.

Uniform buildings that made people look like ants, perfectly rectangular and grey, without any type of extravagant arches and peaks that were typically featured in all of the various Thedosian architectures that existed, past and present.  Instead, the structures in Fitz’ painting were plain, except for what looked to be a great deal of wide windows that seemed to depict many stories in each of the tall, thin structures. 

Hawke counted at least thirty levels to each building Fitz had drawn, and he didn’t know if it was just an exaggeration of the artist or if Fitz’ world truly had buildings that reached up to the clouds, with no hills or mountains to give them an additional advantage in reaching such amazing heights. 

“What is that supposed to be?”

Fenris was pointing at another, smaller, boxy thing that sat at the very bottom of the mural, the man crouching down in order to get a better look at it. 

Unlike the buildings, this thing wasn’t perfectly rectangular, though it did have quite a few windows, and there were four barely noticeable circles drawn at the base of the odd squares.  Next to weird box Fenris was pointing at were near identical little drawings, many of them, though there were some differences in size and color that made each unique. 

“He had a similar drawing in his journal,” Hawke said, after staring at the weird thing for a quiet moment.  “He called it a ‘car’.  It’s hard to tell in this painting, but those little circles seem to be wheels.  I got the sense that a car is used similar to how we use wagons.”  Something else came up in his mind, and Hawke hesitantly added on, “He also wrote ‘hot wheels’ under that picture, but I have no idea what that could even mean.”

Fenris shook his head, and stood.  “Does this mean that all of his nonsense, the made up words and the odd phrases, are not so…made up anymore?”

Hawke huffed out a small laugh.  “I think it would be fair to say that he still spat out a good deal of nonsense.  The little spaz.”

“Merrill will want to see this,” Fenris said, sighing as he thought about the woman’s reaction to this news. 

She had been blown away, in excitement as well as disbelief, when Hawke and Varric had sat them down and told them the truth about Fitz.  It was hard to belief, yes, but there were parts where it made all the sense in the world.  Besides, Hawke believed it, as did the dwarf, so that was good enough for the rest of them.

“Yes, I already told her about it,” Hawke said, sounding a bit far away. 

He was still taken in by the mural in front of them, from the odd spot of greenery in the far corner, that seemed so out of place amongst the dominant greyness of the scene, to the small lake that lay in the middle of the green.  There were no walls enclosing the city and there were buildings situated all the way to the very edges of land, with very little space between them and the large body of water that surrounded the entire city.  The blue faded out, marking the end of the painting, and implying that Fitz’ home was in fact an ocean port city.

It was true that the buildings were clearly extremely tall; taller than any of the fortified walls that surrounded Thedosian cities, but it was still odd that the entire city seemed to be completely open and undefended. 

“I don’t even think Kirkwall has this many structures,” Hawke muttered, swiping a hand across the painting.  “And I thought Lowtown was packed…everything is so close together.  The buildings seem to just merge into one.”

Fenris nodded in agreement, also shooting a quick glance at his friend.  “Makes one wonder how life outside the city looks.”

Hawke wondered the same, though he was imagining basically the same scene.  Maybe those rectangular buildings were shorter and more spaced out, but they seemed to be the dominant architectural style of Fitz’ world so Hawke didn’t know what else to imagine.  Hawke couldn’t help but think that it would be very odd to live in such a house.

“We’ll have to ask Fitz.  I wonder if he lived in one of these buildings.”  Hawke traced his fingers over one of the tall structures, and tried to imagine Fitz roaming those streets that barely even looked walkable.  He didn’t really succeed.

Fenris didn’t reply, though he did turn to stare at his friend openly this time.  He wasn’t very skilled in the area of comfort, but he had been through a lot with Hawke and the man had done more for him than any other person he knew.  And, Fenris knew his friend well enough to tell when the other man needed some kind of consolation.

“We will find Fitz,” he reassured Hawke, not hesitating to place a hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Do not doubt that.”

Hawke smiled, just a little bit, and it was a forced, disheartened thing.

“Yes, I know.”

~

I opened my eyes to blue skies and white clouds.

Surrounded by skyscrapers, and the sounds of cars, and _people_.

And I felt oddly at ease.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy monday yall! i hope you didn't stay up til 3 am like me... ;p  
> as always, thank you so much for reading! i would love to hear what you think! :)
> 
> [here's some new fanart from happysnowdragon!](https://www.dropbox.com/sh/3wqurkk07isa9be/AABMeSg1teXsPyTcmBoa_-dEa?dl=0) It's really great, so please take a look!
> 
> [and in case you didn't see it last chapter, here is a super cute Easter pic by NeoHH10!](http://sta.sh/0pwy98mfu7p)


	51. Act III: In the Chaos, You Fight

It was going to be a long day.  Amrita knew it as soon as she entered the War Room that morning.

She could just imagine how the next few hours would go; the day would be full of talking about the same thing and dealing with the same reactions.  The only difference would be the people she was talking with.

Amrita didn’t call this particular meeting to discuss their upcoming strategies for the Corypheus issue; though that was next on the agenda, to be sure.  The first part of the meeting, however, was meant for the discussion of one man in particular; a friend, rather than the darkspawn-magister who was currently ruining all of their days.

Before she could speak with Solas and Dorian, who were next on her list, Amrita knew she had to arrange a talk with her advisors.  Leliana, Josephine, Cullen, and Cassandra were at the heart of this organization and, while only two of them were explicitly dealing with the search for Fitz, Amrita could not very well tell those two the big secret surrounding the young man and not the others as well.  And, she did not need her spymaster suspecting anything; what with Fitz’ secret currently cycling through select members of the Inquisition (which Amrita was already planning on extending to two mages in particular).  That would just be messy.  The matter was different when only one person knew of Fitz’ real situation, just as it was different when only three people knew of Fitz’ ability to repel magic. 

Amrita could not keep this secret any longer.  Not if its knowledge could prove vital in saving the original secret bearer’s life.  Besides, the advisors needed to know exactly why Fitz couldn’t be written off as loss, and Amrita already had an inkling of this belief in previous discussions with her group of advisors.

Additionally, if Fitz’ circumstances, the resistance to magic and everything, could be understood, perhaps it would open up new ways of tackling the current problem; finding a way to free him from the Fade.

So, vividly remembering a time, long ago, when she had to face these four people, and for a similar reason as well, Amrita could not help but feel a tiny bit nostalgic.  This was not the first time she had to address the issue of Fitz to her advisors.  But, in those days, Fitz had just been a wandering elf (yet another one), with little background or known acquaintances, and he had only inspired a very small amount of suspicion amongst the Inquisition leaders back then.  He was weird, kind of rude, and couldn’t seem to pay attention for the life of him.  Even Leliana was quick to dismiss any sort of potential threat from the young elf.

Amrita remembered explaining that he was just a good friend; a young man who had lost much and cared little for talking about himself, but who was ultimately harmless.  A good recruit for the Inquisition. 

It felt like ages had passed since that time, and they had all grown so much; they had grown closer, and Fitz had opened up to her in ways that Amrita never would have expected. 

She told herself that this had to be done.  Leliana had people, subtle people, who knew how to find those believed to be lost for good and Josephine had connections to extensive resources.  Both women had discrete teams tasked with the specific mission of finding a way to access the Fade, and they both had ways of finding even the most obscure of information. 

If, for some reason, Fitz’ story might help them in their searches, then maybe they might finally make headway on this search.  Perhaps they may even find out whether his story is a one of a kind or not.

Standing before her advisors now, as Inquisitor rather than a forced Herald, Amrita prepared for what she knew would be an absolutely exhausting day. 

~

“You are certain of this?”

Amrita sighed, slightly exasperated despite herself.  She knew her words were difficult to understand, but the recycled phrases were already getting rather old.  She hadn’t even spoken to Dorian yet.

The two of them stood in the center of Solas’ room, Amrita having dropped by as soon as her advisors had given her leave.  She was too geared up to sit, though Solas had graciously offered her a chair. 

“Yes,” she said, quickly.  “Here.  I…I’m not altogether sure whether Fitz would have wanted you to see these, but if it’s evidence you need…I can’t think of any other way.”

Solas was quiet for a moment, just looking at the books Amrita was attempting to press into his hands.  She had told her advisors about Fitz’ journals and, while Leliana had expressed interest in them, the other woman understood that they would be more useful in the hands of researchers.

“You are telling me this…for what reason?” he asked, softly, as he took both books into his own hands, running a single palm across the cover before flipping the first one open.

“You have been helping Fitz for…since Redcliffe,” to her credit, Amrita didn’t stutter or otherwise react as she spoke of that time.  She simply went on in a strong voice, “You’ve known about how magic affects him, er, or how it _doesn’t_ affect him.  And you know more about the Fade than everyone in this castle put together.”  Amrita took a breath, allowing some time for her words to sink in before continuing.

“I felt you needed to know the full story, if we were to take the matter of saving Fitz seriously,” Amrita ended her speech with only the slightest of wobbles to her voice.  “I’m afraid…I am at a loss of what to do.  None of our research is coming up with results, and the longer he is in there…I just don’t know how the Fade might be affecting him.  Being that…”

“Being that he exists as a physical manifestation of something that should not be.  His body and mind were not shaped for life in our world,” Solas paused, very much deep in thought; his mind turning over and over, making all the connections that had previously alluded him.  In a murmur, that Amrita could just barely hear, he said, “So, that is why magic could never get a firm hold on him.”

“It was, though,” Amrita replied, making Solas look at her as though he had forgotten she was even there.  “He was – how do I word this? – he was _adapting_.  We spoke of this before, remember?  When we left Skyhold last, magic didn’t not just fall off him like it used to, it was–”

Solas interrupted with a single raised palm.  “I do not believe that to be the right explanation, Inquisitor.  At one time, I thought the same, but now…I believe it might be more complicated than we previously thought.”

“I thought the Breach had triggered something in him,” the man went on, in as excitable a manner as Solas could truly portray.  “I thought, perhaps such a strong surge of magic had awakened his closed-off relationship to the Fade, breaking down what had once damaged it.  From what he’s confided to me, his barriers did not start deteriorating until after the Breach was made.  But, now, what you’ve just told me changes everything.”

Solas walked over to his desk, and placed both journals onto it, though he looked to be struggling to face Amrita once more.  She could tell he wanted to read them, _now_ , but she still had some questions for him.

“Another world…” Solas breathed, sounding far-off.  “It implies so much…perhaps Fitz never had any ties to the Fade to begin with, as impossible as it sounds.”

“But, that doesn’t explain what was happening to him.  The magic, his black-outs – what about those?  Why would magic affect him so?”

“He told you that magic did not exist in his world, correct?” Solas did not wait for Amrita to confirm his question; he had heard her the first time and the reiteration was simply part of his thought process.  “Then, it could very well be that Fitz comes from a place where magic was lost, or the inhabitants outgrew the ability for it altogether.  Given his natural resistance, his ancestors might have even built up that immunity.  Such as the dwarves of Orzammar are resistant to the effects of magic while they remain below the earth.  We can’t truly know without having been to his world…”

Solas was theorizing, organizing his thoughts out loud, and Amrita could tell it was more for his own benefit than for hers, but she responded anyway.

“Then, the over-exposure to magic broke down his resistance?” she asked, purely for clarification.  “That contradicts what you said earlier, about Fitz never having a connection to the Fade to begin with.”

“Magic was not created in the Fade, Inquisitor,” he answered.  “Magic was within nature…it was just natural.  Just as the Fade, too, is natural for those of our world.  Fitz, however–” Solas cut himself off, thinking, and a silence spread between the two elves while he made sense of his thoughts.  Finally, he finished his point with a definite air of frustration, perhaps bordering on confusion.

“Fitz is not natural to this world, to continue with that analogy.  If he never held a connection to the Fade, if his world never–”

“But, what if that’s not true?” Amrita interrupted, suddenly hit with an idea.  “What if his world had, at one point, been tied to the Fade, but it was broken.  Or, simply faint–”

“It is unlikely,” Solas responded, a bit flatly.  “The state of our own relationship with the Fade is weak, at best.  To be any less than that, the Fade might as well not even exist.  That world would have to be completely cut off, and to think such a–”

“I see your point,” Amrita sighed, the conversation going a bit over her head.  She was not an expert on the Fade by any means; there was a reason she chose not to study rift magic when given the chance.  “And we’re back to your idea that Fitz’ world has no Fade.  How would that even work?”

Solas was quiet, and Amrita could only assume that he had little clue of the answer as well. 

Thedas was hard enough to understand, without adding other worlds to the mix.  As if it were not enough just looking for a way back into the Fade to find the man who brought all this discussion on.  Finding Fitz was top priority, and it had to come before all this talk about natural make-up of other worlds.  It would not do to get side tracked now.

Searching for ways to access the Fade had been endlessly difficult and, to put it simply, it was daunting work.  All the sources they had led to dead-ends, and the fact that the feat of physically entering the Fade was basically supported by less than a handful of evidence, Amrita’s own experiences included, did not exactly lead to a heartening outlook.

It was telling, how hard this whole quest was, that she had to finally admit to herself that others needed to be told about Fitz’ true background.  Anything that could help in this search, no matter how obscure.  It wasn’t time to hide, and hold back, any more.

“Have you ever heard of such a thing, before this?  Of other worlds, I mean,” Amrita ventured, hesitantly bringing up a thought she had had at the beginning of this conversation, before they had delved into that discussion on the existence of an otherworldly Fade.  “Do you know what it could mean…for Fitz.  Being in there, without any sort of connection…?”

Solas had turned his back on her halfway through her struggled questions and Amrita watched as he flicked through Fitz’ journals, a tight knot of nervousness in her stomach.  She had a feeling Fitz would be unhappy to learn of how popular his journals had become and, at the same time, she knew he’d just have to suck it up.  Unconsciously, Amrita straightened up, already imagining the fight he might start over this matter.  Busy fighting an imaginary argument, Amrita almost missed Solas’ slow answer.

“It’s…not a matter I have much knowledge of,” he finally said, making Amrita’s heart fall.  “If you would allow me some time to think, and to read these over, I might have something more of use to say.”

“Of course,” she replied readily, before backing out of his room.  She had never been in the other elf’s room before, and she found it awkward, like she was intruding somehow.  To be honest, she was more used to seeing him in the library; for that is where she always seemed to find him anyways, when she would go to him looking for stories or to ask for his accompaniment on an upcoming journey.  Amrita was relieved to go; not just because she still had Dorian to speak with, but because she found the room stifling somehow.

Solas didn’t give much mind to her leaving.  So taken in by the writing before him, he bid the woman a brisk goodbye and didn’t so much as look up when the door shut behind her.

“Interesting,” he murmured, flipping yet another page and settling in for a day of reading.  It was a surprise, he would admit, for he had not thought he would ever get the chance to read the personal thoughts of a person he had found so elusive, so odd. 

He would also admit to a second thing; everything was beginning to make  _a lot_ more sense.

~

“Pardon?”

When the Inquisitor herself shows up to one’s personal quarters, it really begs the question of: what blighted shit-storm was happening now? 

Or, at least, that’s what was going through Dorian’s mind when Amrita showed up early one day, wearing a rather somber look on her face and asking if she might come in to talk.  Alarms were raised, because for all the times he and the Inquisitor had spoken, it was usually either at the tavern or in the library.  Occasionally, they bonded through educational spars in the training yard, but those were too far in between to really be routine for them.  To be quite honest, Dorian was rather surprised the woman even knew where his room was, though he supposed being the leader of the Inquisition came with extensive knowledge such as this. 

He let her in without a fuss, and he was glad he had woken up early that day.  He didn’t need the Inquisitor seeing him clad in only his nightwear.  Granted, he would have looked just as good in any case, but he had certain images to uphold and the others have seen quite enough of him during the various quests they’ve gone on so far.  He did not need to extend that sort of behavior to Skyhold as well; where there were the beginnings of a small, though uncultured, civilization.

This, of course, led the man to thinking about how others could benefit from taking advantage of the facilities offered here (one qunari came to mind in particular), but then Amrita was talking and her words gave Dorian, who was listening despite his roaming thoughts, reason to pause.  Or, freeze more like.

“Apologies, dear Inquisitor.  What did you just say?” he asked, unsure of whether he wanted to raise his eyebrows at the woman standing before him, or simply fall onto his bed and go back to sleep, because surely this could not be happening.  The Inquisitor was a reasonable woman, she did not go about spouting nonsense, such as what just came out of her mouth.

“Dorian, you heard me perfectly,” Amrita sighed, taking in the sight of Dorian’s wide eyes and slightly agape mouth.  She found it almost amusing, seeing the other mage so aghast, but she really just wanted to get this over with. 

As with Solas, she wasn’t even sure if Fitz wanted the man to know his secret. 

Of course, Amrita also had little choice but to tell him.  Dorian had been doing his own research and, of the many people looking for ways to enter the Fade, there were only two people she trusted enough to tell the complete story, truth and all.  And Dorian was one of them. 

“No, no.  Please, you have my sincerest apologies,” Dorian repeated, an unsmothered edge to his voice, and the man waved a hand in the air.  “I do believe I _must_ have misheard you.  That is, unless you were saying ‘Fitz is _in_ another world’, rather than ‘Fitz is _from_ another world’, in which case I will be happy to inform you that I am well aware of our friend’s current predicament.” 

He ended his rushed explanation with a slightly strangled laugh.

Amrita just stared at him, arms crossed, until he sighed.

Rubbing a hand across his face, he asked, “Alright, so I did hear you correctly.  Joy.  But, are you quite certain?  I know the little cretin can be…bizarre, but another world?  One that is not Thedas?  That’s simply absurd.”

“Absurd enough to be impossible?  Like how time altering magic is also impossible, yes?  Because we have _never_ witnessed such _absurd_ things during our time with the Inquisition.”

Dorian delivered an extremely deadpan look towards the woman in front of him, aimed at the sarcastic pitches her voice made as she spoke, but he had to concede to her point. 

“You have me there, I’m afraid.”  He sighed again.  “Maker…I knew he was odd, but this far exceeds any of the theories I had.”

“Yes, trust me.  I know,” Amrita agreed, knowing it was time to get back on track. 

She had a lot to explain, and there was a lot that Dorian needed to hear.  She also knew it would take longer than the talk with Solas had, so Amrita steeled herself for a more boisterous exchange. 

“If you’ve time, I can explain all of this in more detail.  I know how much research you’ve put into the matter of Fitz’…current situation,” Amrita tripped over the words slightly, but didn’t falter, “and it is my belief that you should knew more about him…as a person.  Because he has never been normal, and that also means his experience in the Fade will not be normal as well.  If the notion of normality is even relevant to such a place, that is.”  Amrita rubbed a hand across her forehead, brushing away some of the black strands that she had missed in braiding her hair that morning and tucking them behind her ear. 

Dorian hummed, already thinking about the possibilities and implications of this new knowledge, even though there were still bits of skepticism in the back of his mind. 

“Yes, ‘normal’ is not the best word to describe any of this, is it?” he posed, before gesturing to his desk with a quickly waved hand.  “Please, have a seat.  I suppose this is a talk best done sitting down, yes?”

Amrita sighed, and took the offered chair.  “Yes.  Forgive me in advance, but I will be bringing up blood magic once again.  I wonder if you’ve heard anything about using it to open up a path between worlds, but first…let me explain more on the peculiarities of Fitz.”

~

As the Inquisitor was finally finishing up her ever-so exhausting day, talks of different sorts were going on across the castle.  And in Fitz’ room, no less.

Five old friends were piled into the now-ransacked looking room located not far from the library rotunda, and they were not speaking of much; just trying to keep the air light, and as calm as possible.

Hawke lay on the messy bed, spread out in a deceptively casual manner.  To the untrained eye, he appeared to be quite at ease; as though there were nothing in the world that bothered him. 

Of course, it was a fruitless endeavor on his part, for everyone in the room knew him too well to be fooled by such posturing.  They let him play at it though, whatever made him feel better.  Whatever helped keep his chin up.

Varric sat in front of the table near the door and he was speaking, as he usually was; but this time it was another’s words coming from his mouth.

Aveline had written to Hawke a couple of times since Adamant and while she was pretty well out of the loop seeing as they could only communicate through letters, the Guard-Captain offered words of comfort all the same.

“Ah, and she ends with a pleasant note to you all,” Varric said, speaking to the three newcomers specifically.  “Our dear Guard-Captain hopes you are behaving yourselves, and not interfering too much with the Inquisition’s hard work.  She mentions you by name, Rivaini – saying, ‘tell the pirate I know what she did and she will regret it’.  Underlined the ‘will’ a couple times, too.”  Varric raised his eyebrows at the chuckling woman in question.

“She’ll get over it,” Isabela said with a loftily waved hand.  She stood before the little dresser in the room, rifling through its drawers.  “A small parting joke to her is always such a big deal.  The dramatics of it all.”  She sniffed, like she was the one being wronged.

“That’s because your ‘parting jokes’ typically involve mass mayhem,” Fenris mumbled from his spot on the end of the bed.  The warrior sat in a comfortable slouch with his arms resting against his knees.  He shot a flat look at the still laughing woman.

“You two may not be able to feel humor but, I can assure you, _I_ was laughing.”

“You’re still laughing, ma vhenan,” Merrill murmured, from beside the other woman, and she too was peering into the drawers with great interest.

“Oh, well,” Varric said, folding up Aveline’s letter, and placing it back into his stack of other papers.  “There’s another letter, too.  Ah, I’ll open that later.”

A peaceful air of quietness existed between the gang for only a few minutes, before it was broken once again.

“Alright,” Isabela groused, holding up one of the few shirts that sat, slightly crumpled, inside the tiny dresser across from the bed.  “This is absolutely atrocious.  Does Fitz own anything that is actually wearable?  As in, not littered with holes and patches?”

Varric snorted.  “Are you really surprised, Rivaini?  We’re talking about the kid who wore a threadbare coat for two years straight, even when the damn thing was more patches than original fabric.”

Merrill frowned, looking over Isabela’s shoulder.  Like her vhenan, she too had been inspecting Fitz’ meager belongings; and though she had hoped to find that Fitz had developed better habits since his departure from Kirkwall, the evidence was clearing lacking.

She tsked, taking the shirt out of Isabela’s hands in order to look at it properly, before shaking her head.  “He should have tossed this _ages_ ago.  It looks as though this shirt was burned!”

Suddenly thoughtful, Varric recalled an event from…well, ages ago. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed, amazed that he had forgotten this particular fiasco.  “Come to think of it, it was.  Burned, I mean.”

Hawke wore a frown, and looked as though he were finally about to sit up, but before he could speak (or move), Varric was hurrying on. 

“Nothing serious, of course,” he was quick to reassure, though Hawke’s frown didn’t lessen in the least.  “Buttercup – that is, Sera.  Uh, another of the Inquisitor’s inner circle,” he clarified, for the three newcomers’ sakes, and continued.  “Scholar and she were messing around, like usual, and Buttercup’s damned flasks got involved.  Nearly set fire to the bar back in Haven, but Scholar’s shirt ended up taking the brunt of it.” 

Varric ended almost abruptly, because as he finished speaking, realization flooded his senses; sort of like a light being shone over his head.  “Andraste’s – we all wondered why Scholar came away unscathed.  Thought he’d taken precautions, but it was his…his,” Varric waved his hands, unsure of what to call it.  “His weird affiliation with all things magic.”

The others understood, and the dwarf’s words sparked recollections of their own; Fitz’ utter denial of any sort of healing potion or salve, his sometimes panicked rejection to healing magic, and his uncanny ability to simply disappear when magic was even being done.  Every time Merrill so much as looked towards her mirror, as if she were about to start working on it again, Fitz would be out of the house with a cheery wave.  And, in other cases, he could have an eye swollen completely shut, from some mishap or another, and he would flat out refuse even the most basically made salves for it.  This particular habit used to drive them all crazy, though a few more notably than others.

“Yes, but why does he still have it?” Merrill questioned, confusion coloring her voice, and her words jarred everyone out of a moment of seemingly universal nostalgia.  “Surely he doesn’t actually wear it.”

Varric made a face, like he wasn’t completely sure that the man wouldn’t _not_ wear it, and Merrill responded with a horrified look.  Isabela nearly broke down laughing, taking the ruined shirt from the smaller woman’s hands, and tossing it haphazardly back into its drawer. 

“Don’t try to understand it, kitten,” she advised, brushing a hand across the elf’s arm as she moved around the woman to get to the other side of the room.  “I gave up trying to understand the little blighter’s thinking long before he even left Kirkwall.”

“Long before you left as well, hm?” Hawke piped in, sounding only slightly catty.  Isabela shot him an unimpressed look from her new position next to the only window in the room.  She leaned her back against the wall next to it, crossing her arms as well. 

“Oh, sweets, you know it,” she replied haughtily.  “I knew immediately not to put much effort into what went on in that odd head of his.  He spent his free time in a Chantry of all places.”  Isabela let out another short laugh, but she wasn’t finished.  Now that Hawke seemed more inclined to talk, she couldn’t very well just let it end there.

“Besides, you mooned over him for how long?  And the little idiot never even realized it.  What do you think that says about him?”

“Watch it, hag,” Hawke retorted, though it was by no means an angry reply.  Perhaps a slight warning, but not much more than that.  “He liked Merrill as well, and _she_ never realized.”

Isabela smirked.  “That’s because I was always there, and she only ever had eyes for me.  Isn’t that right, kitten?”

Merrill, who was not listening in any way, mumbled something indistinct, having moved on from looking through Fitz’ clothing to inspecting the little items that were placed on top of the dresser.  This array of items consisted of only a few wooden carvings, some small statuettes, and a couple books.

Holding open one of the tomes, Merrill suddenly looked up to speak, though it was not to answer Isabela’s silly teasing.

“I think Fitz stole this.  There’s a rather fancy signature on the cover.”  Not really bothered by the potential theft, Merrill kept flipping pages.  “Oh, look!  He’s written in the corners.  That looks rude, wouldn’t you say?”  She moved over to stand by Varric’s side, showing the dwarf what must’ve been a drawing of some sort.  Varric just laughed.

“That would be one of Sparkler’s books,” he said, still chuckling.  “Bet he doesn’t even know Scholar took it.”

“He liked it here then?” Hawke asked, suddenly.  His voice drew the attentions of everyone.

Merrill looked up from the book she was still reading, Isabela turned away from the window she had been peering out of, and Fenris shifted awkwardly from where he still sat, perched on the end of the bed. 

Varric looked at his friend sadly, and smiled.  “Yeah, I guess he did.”

That one sentence launched him into another bout of story-telling.  Varric spared no details, and he might have made some up, but he told the others all about Fitz’ days with the Inquisition, including what he knew about the man’s time as an Inquisition Scout, which the dwarf knew to be the man’s favorite part of this whole experience.

It may have taken a few hours, but it was nice enough just to hear about happier times.  And, in the beginning, Hawke was able to put on a good face and listen.  He even enjoyed some of them, but there was a nagging voice in his head, telling him that it was all useless.  They weren’t doing anything with just talk.  There needed to be action.

So, predictably, the story-telling shtick didn’t end on a particularly nice note.  Maybe if there were more progress being made, more hope in his heart, the night would have been spared from Hawke’s inner turmoil.  And, maybe he would not have snapped halfway through an innocent story about Fitz and an incident involving Sera and a handful of Chargers.

“Dammit,” Hawke burst out, sitting up in one agitated movement; ditching his reclining position with not a small amount of anger in his mannerisms.  “We didn’t gather here to recount old stories of ‘Oh, remember when Fitz did this?’ or ‘Remember that one time he–’!”  His hands were clenched tight in his lap, and nobody moved to fill the silence left by his abrupt words.

“It makes this seem like a blighted goodbye, and it’s _not_ ,” Hawke nearly snarled, breaking the silence before it could really set in.  Sitting upright for the first time, he looked around at his friends with an odd sheen to his face that had them all glancing away.  “We should be doing something.  Not just sitting here–”

“Hawke,” Varric sighed.  “We’ve been through this.  It’s not that we’re doing nothing.  It’s just…there’s not much we _can_ do right now.”

“You keep saying that,” Hawke said mournfully.  “And it still feels like we’re betraying him.”

“Hawke…” Merrill began, handing over the book she’d been nosing through to Varric.  She walked up to Hawke with careful steps and placed one gentle hand on the back of his head as she sat down next to him.  The woman ran her fingers through his hair, and said, “I’ve been speaking with the Inquisitor.  Telling her about what I know, and I’ve even spoken to that rather sad elf, Solas, a few times…he doesn’t like me much, but that’s not what I was going to say!”  Merrill shook her head quickly to regather her thoughts.

“We will find a way.  Of course we will,” she said, leaning over to peer up at his face with wide eyes and a caring smile.  “These things take time.  The Fade has not been entered physically in…you know all this.  Just know, we will succeed.  I know we will.”

“What…” Hawke began to speak, and then had to clear his throat before he could continue.  “What if he’s hurt.  What if–”

“You must know that Fitz is stronger than any of us can really fathom,” Merrill said, gently chiding him.  “His circumstances are different than ours.  By what you’ve said, and what I’ve learned, Fitz must not be connected to the Fade as we are.  When you were in there, you said he was stronger in the end…that must account for something, and my heart is telling me that spirits and demons will have a much harder time harming him, should they try.”

Merrill let her hand fall to grasp at her friend’s hand; picking it up and squeezing. 

“You mustn’t let those thoughts bear down on you.  It will not help Fitz, and it will not help yourself either,” she told him, earnestly.  “Fitz is strong.  Please remind yourself of that, lethallin.”

“If anything, Hawke,” Isabela cut in, with a smile.  “Fitz will scare off any monster with that face alone.  Like so.”  Isabela imitated Fitz’ scowl to perfection; she curled her upper lip slightly and furrowed her brows, which were far too thin to really get the picture across, but she also added the perfect amount of disgust in her eyes which surprised a laugh out of Hawke.

Isabela smirked, satisfied, and went on to say, “Besides, I promised to kick the little bugger’s ass next I saw him.  I won’t let him get out of it so easily.”

“I suppose I should say ‘leave him alone,” Hawke returned dryly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he decided to play along.  “But, at this point, he probably deserves it.”

“So long as you don’t do what you normally do in a fight,” Varric put in, slyly.  “Neither Scholar nor Hawke need to experience that.”

“Please,” Isabela turned up her nose, “I don’t tailor my fights for anyone.  It’s win or lose, and that brat is going down.  Hard.”  She wiggled her eyebrows, aiming for Hawke, and she nearly cheered when he turned a scowl at her.

“Don’t,” he warned, not even bothering to think of a threat to throw out at her. 

“Let’s not be unnecessarily cruel,” Fenris said, leaning into the conversation with a slight grin on his face; a more subdued version of Isabela’s shit-eating one.  “Does Fitz really deserve to have _Isabela_ inflicted upon him?  If you wish to teach him a lesson, you would do better to make him play cards.  I doubt he could think of anything worse.”

“There’s an idea,” Hawke replied, slowly bringing back his mask of easy humor.  “I’ll tell him he owes me.  Fifty games, at least.”

“And when he loses all his money, will you take his clothes next?” Isabela snickered, and Merrill joined in with a few giggles of her own.  Hawke rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll help him cheat.”

“Oh?” Isabela’s eyes grew wide, with mischief.  “I wasn’t aware others were invited to this party.  I thought it was a euphemism.”

“You’re deplorable,” Hawke said back flatly, shaking his head. 

“Or, we can give this,” Varric interjected, bringing the conversation back up from the gutter Isabela had thrown it in.  He waved the book Merrill had given to him, and continued, “Back to its rightful owner, and watch the impending doom fall upon Scholar from a safe distance.  He’s drawn some pretty offensive pictures of Sparkler in the pages, so I suspect the fallout will be great.”

“Perfect,” Hawke announced.  “We’ve his punishments all planned out.  I feel better already.”

Hawke didn’t say it aloud, but everybody heard his hidden words.  They ran through each person’s mind as the room descended into silence once more.

_Now all we need is the man himself._

_~_

“Ah, Inquisitor.”

The greeting came from behind her, and when she titled her head, Amrita was met with the vision of the Inquisition’s relatively new advisor making her way out of the room Amrita had only just exited from.  People, even nobles, made certain movements in order to stay out of woman’s way, though the woman named Morrigan did not seem to take note of this whatsoever.  Her eyes were set on the Inquisitor, who, like her, had just finished a rather grueling meeting in the War Room.

It was time to think about furthering their plans to stop Corypheus.  Time was pressing in, enough to make Amrita want to scream, and if she had to hear about red Templars and darkspawn poser-gods ever again, she thought she just might finally lose it.

“Hello, Morrigan.  Is there something you need?” she asked, politely halting so that the other woman could catch up. 

When Morrigan was by her side, the woman took Amrita off guard by continuing to walk forward; right past the elf without so much as pausing.  Instead, the woman spoke from over her shoulder, directing it at Amrita with a tone that did not leave much room for choice.

“Yes, if you have a moment, there is something I wish to show you.”

Amrita almost sighed, and hurried to catch up with the other mage.  “Is it pressing?  I’m meant to meet with–”

“You will want to see this, Inquisitor,” Morrigan said, leveling the elf with serious eyes.  “It has to do with your friend.  The one you lost.”

“Fitz,” Amrita whispered in an exhale, now following Morrigan with stronger steps. 

The witch walked through the main hall like the stares weren’t burning, and led them to the door on the right that would lead to the well-tended garden; an area the witch tended to frequent most since arriving at Skyhold.  They kept to the pavement, not entering the garden itself, but rather walking around it.

“Morrigan, do you know of a way–”

“’Tis a possibility, but you would do well to not get ahead yourself,” the witch replied in a rather curt tone.  She lifted her chin, gesturing for the elf to continue following her, towards one of the many rooms that lined the other end of the courtyard.  “I do not wish to lift your hopes without reason, and forgive me if I do.”

“I cannot promise you a plan, for even I do not know how to reach your friend from where we currently stand, but I do know of the struggles you face.  If you do not mind an uncertain possibility, I might be of some help to you.”

The two women stopped in front of the room at the end of the open hallway, a deserted corner in the otherwise packed garden, and Morrigan turned around to face the Inquisitor head-on, one hand on the doorknob.

“In our meeting, I spoke of Eluvians.  Tell me, Inquisitor, how much do you know of them?”

~

~ 

I wasn’t used to it.

It’d been a while since I woke up here, but every time I looked at something, didn’t matter what it was, I had to stop and just stare.  Not even the presence of Hawke, standing right next to me, was enough to immediately snap me out of it.  Not even when he was talking.

“So, this is New York, huh?  Lovely place.  Not as lively as I thought it would be, but…you know.”

I just stood there for a moment, staring, and I don’t know how long I stood like that, but it probably wasn’t for too long.  I was pulled out of it when Hawke tilted his head at me, gesturing to the scenery around us.

I looked around and, sure enough, there we were.  Right in the middle of some park.  I couldn’t remember the name of it, but I felt like, at one point, I did.  It wasn’t a part of the city that I typically hung around, but I still kind of knew it.  It was familiar; so familiar.

We were under some trees, pretty close to the edge of the park; right near the railing that overlooked the river next to us.  There was this huge bridge, too, and the thing was really close to us.  The sight of it almost made me remember the name of the park, but I lost it at the last second.  I didn’t really care though.  It wasn’t important.

I could remember that my dad liked this park, he liked going here on summer mornings, and Scott liked this old bookstore that was only a few blocks away.

Oh.  Scott.  There was a name I hadn’t thought about in ages.

“Fitz?  Earth to Fitz?”

A hand was waving in front of my face, not close enough to touch, but I still stumbled back anyways.

“Hawke…sorry,” I said, almost in a mutter.  “Yeah.  This is…uh, Queens.”

“Did you grow up here?” he asked, looking about with curious eyes.  He started walking forward, towards the water, and didn’t see me when I shook my head.  He was really intent on getting a good look at the bridge that seemed to tower over us, so I had to vocalize my answer.

“No.  I’m from…not here.  Uh, next over.”

A man jogged by, paying us no mind, and Hawke turned to watch him go.  Otherwise, the place was oddly deserted; which seemed wrong to me, but I didn’t know why. 

It looked like it might’ve been early morning, the sun was barely up, and it made me squint.  What an odd time to be out here.  I felt like I should be somewhere else, like sleeping or something.  But, Hawke looked happy, so I let it go.

“There’s a pool over there somewhere,” I recalled, pointing off to the distance, vaguely.  “A big one…”

Hawke made an interested noise, having already returned his attention to the bridge on our right.  He looked at it like he’d never seen such a structure, but it wasn’t in awe; it was more like he thought the thing looked weird.  I guess it did; compared to the more solid-looking ones made of stone and wood that existed in Thedas, this one probably looked flimsy.  Like it was held up by nothing. 

“Are we on an island then?  Or is this a port city?”

I shrugged; replying with a quick ‘sure’, before an idea popped into my head.

“I can show you something else,” I said suddenly; a want, a wish, forming in my mind. 

Almost immediately, seamlessly, the scenery changed around us.  Hawke wore a pleased expression as he looked around us, but I ignored it.  Just for the moment.

I walked down the familiar street with renewed confidence and I could almost feel the excited bounce in my step, though I knew I was probably just walking normally. 

“It’s far away from the good shops and shit, like eight blocks I think, but there’s this sick park right around the corner.  It’s–”

“Around the corner to where?”

I didn’t answer him immediately, and I didn’t bring him to the park either, even if it would’ve been pretty funny to see his reaction to the sight of people skateboarding.

Instead, I shrugged and kept walking.  It hurt for some reason, but I recognized every building we passed.  There was only one building I really wanted to see, but I guess it was nice to see the ones I grew up around as well.

Idly, I thought about how we were only a street away from where I disappeared ten years ago.  More than ten years ago.

I tossed that thought out, forgetting it with ease, when I remembered that I still hadn’t addressed Hawke’s last question.  Looking back at Hawke with a lopsided grin and meeting his steady gaze, I answered him.  I choked over the word slightly, but he acted like he didn’t notice, which made things easier.

“Home.”

~

You know when you want something so bad, it feels like taking a huge gulp of air and you’re still not able to breathe?  And it goes all the way down to your gut, leaving you even more breathless than when you first fucking inhaled.

That’s how I felt when I first turned towards Hawke, and took in all of his features.

He was perfect, in that whole physical kind of way.  He didn’t have all of those small lines on his face, but his ears jutted out at just the right angle and his eyes were the same almond shape that I was used to.  The little scar on his cheek, the one that was barely noticeable since the line of his beard blended it in nicely, wasn’t there, even though it should have been.  I knew it had to be there because of the amount of times I’d seen it, and memorized it, but all I saw was smooth skin.

I probably just wasn’t looking hard enough.  And I was pretty disoriented to begin with, so I probably just missed it.  Suddenly waking up in a place I hadn’t seen in years was weird, heart-stopping, and it made total sense for me to be a little spaced out.  There was so much to look at, so much to take in and remember again, and _Hawke_ was with me.  It was like a dream; a nice one.

So, I didn’t question the scar’s disappearance, just like I didn’t question the blurry edges of my surroundings and the way that the colors were more muted than they should have been.  They were such little things, things that were so easy to ignore; they didn’t really matter in the end, so why make a big deal out of it? 

I knew what was happening and I fucking wanted it.

But, Hawke was clear; clearer than everything else.  Almost bright and whenever I would turn his way, it was always kind of hard to look away. 

He stood in front of me, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a faded red Henley stretched across his chest, and when he smiled at me, it was just as I remembered.

And I pretended it was real.

~

We stood on my street, right out front of my old building.  We were just looking up at it.  Hawke was waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t want to talk.

It was a plain thing, my apartment complex, and I guess it fit with how I remembered it.  The bricks were that same aged-looking red color and the front door was kind of faded too, as were the steps leading up to it.  The windows were small, spaced far apart, and I was looking specifically at the one on the top right corner of the building.  The last one in the row.

“That was my room,” I said, nodding my head to it. 

Hawke looked, too, but didn’t respond right away.

“Do you want to go in?”

“No.”

“Then, why did you bring me here?” he asked, curiously.

I shrugged.  “Just wanted to see, I guess.”  The building looked empty and, before I could squash that thought from forming, I wondered if it was like that back in reality, too.

“We can–”

“Let’s go,” I said abruptly, with a forced grin.  “Somewhere more lively, yeah?  That’s what you wanted, right?  I’ll show you the tourist traps.”

~

Hawke was enamored with Times Square.

By this point, the novelty had worn off for me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness from my heart and stomach.  I still wanted more time, but I was getting anxious again and it was getting harder to keep the act up. 

I was so busy trying not to think, I completely forgot myself when I tried to grab Hawke’s hand.

I felt only vaguely disappointed when he moved away before my hand could even brush across his, and it was a resigned kind of feeling.  I should’ve known better.

When I pulled back, putting the proper amount of distance between us again, Hawke looked at me with an extra bright smile.

“How about we find something to eat?  From one of those metal carts, the ones selling those breaded sausages?  I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s called a hotdog.” 

~

When I broke, it wasn’t violent.  It wasn’t even very heated.  Not at the start, at least.

“You’re not pretending anymore,” I said, out of nowhere.  My voice sounded faintly upset, like I couldn’t really work up enough emotion to start a fight quite yet.  “You’re not even trying.”

Hawke looked over at me calmly, smiling, and I could tell that it wasn’t as crooked as it should have been.

“Neither are you,” he replied, with that same, wrong smile on his face.  “It’s been a while since you came back to your senses.”

“Yeah, well…why you still wearing his face then?”

“Because you like it.”

“That’s stupid,” I said immediately, scowling without really realizing it.  “If you’re not going to play along, don’t wear his dumb face, you fuck.”

Hawke turned towards me completely, raising an eyebrow as he sort of lifted his arms in a half-shrug.  “Which face would you prefer, Fitz?  I can see them all, rushing through your head.  If you don’t wish to see Hawke, I can simply–”

“Jesus Christ, psycho,” I spat, spinning away from him in disgust.  “Don’t even.  That’s creepy as fuck, you know that?”

“Perhaps your Inquisitor?” he went on, like he hadn’t even heard me.  “Or maybe you’d rather speak with Varric?  You often found comfort in his tales, correct?  I could tell you of a time long forgotten, in the dwarf’s voice.  If that would please you.”

He hovere don the outskirts of my vision, and I refused to look.

“Then again, I don’t know why we are even discussing this–”

“’Cuz you won’t _shut_ _the_ _fuck_ _up_ –”

“When the only one you wish to see is Hawke.  My allusions won’t fool you anymore, as sad as it is to admit, but I think we can both agree that you want to keep this pretense going.  So wouldn’t you rather it be Hawke’s face you speak with?  Find comfort where you can, when truth is lacking.”

It was dizzying, talking to this thing.  I felt like I was literally spinning, just so fucking disoriented.  It was talking, but it was also Hawke talking, and it _hurt_ , and I just wanted to go to sleep again.  But it wouldn’t shut up, and I couldn’t work up the energy to say ‘shut up’ any more.

“You’ve already been here so long…have you any idea how long you have actually been here?  A while, I should say.  Longer than your friends have to wait for you, in any case.  Don’t push me away when there’s nothing left for you anyway.  Especially since you have no idea how to even escape.  I’m afraid you’re stuck…best you get used to it.”

Its words hit me hard, and I fell to the ground.  I didn’t notice our surroundings anymore, but none of that mattered at the moment; the only thing that was constant was the sound of Hawke’s voice in my ears. 

“And you do know that there is _nothing_ for you back there, don’t you?  Not anymore.”

I buried my face in my hands, didn’t bother to cover my ears.  I would’ve been able to hear him anyways.

“Friends gone?  Hawke gone?  Dead, or moved on.  Truthfully, either is likely.  You’ve been gone for so long, longer than you thought…story of your life, isn’t it?”

My hands were shaking, and so were my shoulders.  I didn’t even notice I’d been crying, or for how long.

“W-why’re you–”

“So, stay with me.  I won’t leave.  There’s still so much you wish to say, and I want to hear you,” Hawke spoke over me, kinder this time, and when I looked up, his smile was as soft as it had been before he started saying such awful things.  I could feel myself calming down, just a little bit.  “Of course, you wish to say it all to Hawke, but _I_ can be him.  It’s so easy to pretend, if you would only see it as such.  You can tell me all you want to say to him.  Tell me about your past.”

Hawke knelt in front of me, still too far to touch, and looked into my eyes.

“And your childhood, that park you spoke of – tell me of your whole world.  How different it is.  I will listen to everything you have to say, and more.”

“My whole world,” I repeated, and even I could hear how blank I sounded.  Like I couldn’t feel anything anymore, even though I knew that to be completely wrong.  I felt like I was breaking through a haze; the haze thrown over me by the spirit, and all its damn talk.  The shaking didn’t stop, but I felt like fighting again.  “That’s not – my whole world is on _Thedas_ now, not – not back there.  I don’t wanna…you should just fuck off, man.”

I picked myself up jerkily, and started to back away.  The spirit followed, advancing towards me; its movements careful, but frightening all the same.

“When else will you be able to tell Hawke the full truth, Fitz?  Shall you just go on lying, without even knowing what it would be like, to tell him what you really are?  Where you’re really from, and what your life was really like on that…old world of yours?”

I curled my fingers inwards, and held my fists stiffly by my side.  I didn’t raise them, but I started to think about it and I hated myself for it.

“Don’t you want to imagine his response?”

I was shaking my head, but it was weak.

“Because I can do that.  I am quite good at knowing people…I know exactly what he would want to say to you after all this.”

“…yeah?  Really?” I murmured, but then I felt my nails pierce the skin of my palms and it was like waking up all over again.  “No…no!  That’s fuckin’ bullshit.”

“It’s true,” it pressed.  “Have I not done a well enough job of playing Hawke thus far?  I know I had you fooled for quite a while.  Longer than you care to admit…”

I flexed my arms a bit, more of a twitch than anything; involuntary, but I was conscious of the feeling.  I put more strength in holding the form my hands were in; refusing to let my fingers uncurl, even though it felt like I was breaking the skin.

I felt anger.  Real anger.  And, I swear, it felt like I was coming back to _life_ again. 

I was alive enough to fucking talk back, with some semblance of strength.  _Finally_.

“Fooled is the wrong word, man.  It was more like…willful ignorance on my part.  Nothin’ to do with your acting skills, that’s for sure.  So, don’t go for show biz or anything, alright?”

“You jest.  How typical,” it sneered.  “Faced with a wish and a want, both tied together by a choice, and you’d prefer to run from it.  _Ignore it_.  But, that is not new for you either, is it?”

“Seriously, man.  Shut the hell up,” I sneered, squaring my shoulders.  “You had your fun, and I’ve had it with _you_.  Time to fuckin’ go.”

“You’re just going to run again.”  I could hear the nastiness more than before, and I cringed.

“It is something you’re so good at after all.  The only pursuit you excel at more would be lying.  Especially when it’s to the ones you love, and the ones who love you back,” it sneered at me, words biting and harsh, and I faltered.  My shoulders fell again, and I could feel myself losing that small bit of resolve I’d only just regained.

“Shu–”

“Oh, and let’s not forget the disappointment you inspire.  We mustn’t leave that out,” it went on, talking right over my feeble attempt to speak.  “You wish to know what Hawke really feels for you now?  Shall I tell you?”

“He feels as though he doesn’t even know you.  But, then again, did he ever?  You were always so distant, so _mean_.  You pushed him away, just as you pushed away every other person in your life.  And you just keep doing it.”

I was crying again, and my fists finally unfurled, my arms hanging, uselessly, by my side.

“I’m right, aren’t I?  I always am.”

It was smiling, and I couldn’t look away, even though it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.

“You pushed Hawke away in Kirkwall.  Then, you did it again at Skyhold.  And yet again, when you pushed him through that rift without so much as a thought for him.”

I shook my head, that wasn’t true.  It wasn’t.

“He’s given up on you,” it said, with an air of finality.  “He should have given you up a long time ago, even he knows that.  Deep down, he knows it would have saved him a lifetime of unnecessary pain.  And it’s such a pity.  Such a great man, broken by some…unknown thing who couldn’t even care less.”

I don’t know if the words hit me so hard because the spirit said them with Hawke’s face.  With his voice.  Or because it was saying all the stuff I ever thought.  All the things I’d worried that _Hawke_ would think.

It’s hard to say, since I wasn’t thinking much about anything except for the pain in my heart; a pain that felt more like a gauge than a simple scratch.  I don’t know, but it hurt and I couldn’t move and I kind of felt like I was going into a panic.  It felt like I was going to have one of those attacks again, like the ones I used to get all the time in the past.  My chest was clenching up in that familiar way, and my throat wasn’t really working all too well, so maybe it really was an attack. 

But, really, it just felt like my heart was breaking.  And the spirit was so close now, and I couldn’t even move to swat it away, probably wouldn’t have even if I was able.  It still wore Hawke’s face, and one touch from me would be like a death sentence.  I didn’t need that on my conscious, in my memories, because honestly, I think I’ve done Hawke enough harm for one lifetime, without having the weight of _killing_ him on my mind too.

Maybe I was going to black out; I wished I would.  Or, maybe I would just become more compliant.  You know, like let the spirit play with my mind some more, let it dig through my memories, and all I would have to do is respond to its questions when the scenes in my head didn’t simply explain themselves.  Otherwise, just let it have free reign of everything in my head and I’m good.

Keep it happy, and I could go to sleep again.  And nothing would hurt anymore.

None of that happened.  Even as I was stumbling away from the spirit, falling again, a new voice started speaking.

~

“Come now, child,” a voice was saying, with a distinctly chiding tone to it.  “After all you’ve been through, all the strength you’ve shown…you will just let everything go on a silly dream such as this?”

That voice sounded like a woman, someone I’d never even heard before.  But, after she spoke, everything I had been seeing vanished in the blink of an eye. 

Hawke was gone.  I wasn’t falling anymore.  And, suddenly, everything was green again and it was that same smoggy green of the Fade that I had almost forgotten about, even though I knew it so well by now. 

I sucked in a breath, to steady myself for a brief moment before I let myself fall down completely; laying down, with my back on the ground.  I was still shaken by the spirit’s words, but the woman’s voice had been a clarifying moment; I didn’t feel as beaten down as before.  It made me wonder how much of my reaction to the spirit’s speech was influenced by the thing itself, and how much was my own doing. 

The Fade was exactly as I remembered Nightmare’s lair to look like, only perhaps not as bad.  Rocks, rocks, and more rocks.  Some in the air, some planted nicely on the ground.  Bubbling springs that looked like acid rather than any sort of water, and a horizon that stretched on forever.

I didn’t look for the person speaking to me, preferring to close my eyes instead.  I wasn’t even quite sure if she were real or not and I didn’t even care.  All that mattered was that Hawke was finally gone; that bastardized version of him, I mean.  I could still hear the words, and the voice, but it wasn’t pressing anymore and my heart finally began to calm down.

Honestly, I just wanted to forget all about the spirit who had constructed that whole fairy-tale for me, who had spoken to me with Hawke’s face, and who I had let fool me so completely.  I didn’t even think it odd, the way the spirit had disappeared so suddenly.  I was just so done; so relieved that I didn’t have to listen to it anymore.  I didn’t care what new monster this was, who apparently sounded like a woman, but I did tell myself I wouldn’t let it get into my head like the last one.  I wouldn’t let it play Hawke. 

I was through with being played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear this gets happy soon...i can write other stuff besides angst. i promise ! @-@
> 
> thanks for reading, love yall! :)


	52. Act III: Is This What We Call A Good Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I feel so bad about how long this took - this chapter was just very hard to write! If anything sounds faulty, my logic or specific scenes or anything, pls let me know because I have been editing this so spaced out and I might have forgotten to fix spots (pls dont hold it against me)

“What is this?”

That new voice, the one that sounded like an old lady, was talking to me.  Or, at me, since I was trying to ignore it.  She, or it (I don’t know), actually sounded amused as I just continued to lie on the ground, with my eyes closed, rather than react to her presence.  Just one goddamn moment alone was all I wanted.

“Will you not even greet the one who has saved you from a spirit’s entrapment?”

“Uh, sure, whatever you want, lady,” I finally said, holding my hands to my head as I fought against the urge to bash my head into the ground beneath me.  “Thanks, you wanna fuckin’ award or somethin’?  ‘Cuz I’m shit outta medals, lemme tell you.”

“Oh my,” she replied, and I could hear her moving, walking around me.  “What attitude.  Though, you’ve always had a bit of an edge, haven’t you?  It makes you more unpredictable than most.  I would even go so far as to call you volatile.”

I forced one eye open at her weird words, and then the second one when I actually registered what she was saying.  Then, I shot up into a sitting position.

She was old.  Tall and in good shape, I suppose, even though her hair was pretty much all white.  She stared down at me with sharp eyes, too sharp, and if she smiled with her teeth, I imagined the sight would have been terrifying.  As it was, the woman only smiled at me with a tight lipped smirk, which I guess was just as intimidating.

I wasted no time in hauling myself up.  I didn’t like her standing over me like that.

“Okay, right, and who the fuck are you supposed to be?” I all but demanded, as I tried to stand as tall as possible.  “Ghost of my fucked up future?  I’ve already had the other two, so of course _you_ wanna fuck with me now.”

I was taller than she was, but it didn’t feel like it.  I was mostly just glad that she was stood a good few feet away from me, rather than up close.  Made my stomach clench less when all she did was raise a single brow at my rudely phrased question.

“Who am I?” she repeated, humor still in her voice.  She decided to ignore my latter comment, preferring to go on to say, “Who are _you_ , is the more pressing question.  A fascinating one as well.”

I didn’t answer, but I did take a step to the side.  Her eyes tracked my movements.

“You a demon, or what?” I asked instead of answering, though I did so rather hesitantly.  She looked very real, but it’s not like I could trust myself to know that for sure.

Somehow, I knew without a doubt that she could not be the same spirit who’d just been screwing with me.  She was too…different, in a way I can’t really explain.

The woman laughed, and I cringed at the sound.  It echoed all around us, and I almost wanted to tell her to tone it down.  It didn’t really matter though, the place remained deserted.  No demons or spirits were attracted to us.

“No, child,” the woman finally deigned to answer, shaking her head with that smirk still in place, though I suppose it looked a bit softer than before.  “I am no such thing.  You may call me Flemeth, for that is how I am known to most.”

“Okay,” I replied, nodding and crossing my arms as she started staring me down once again.  “I’m Fitz.”

Flemeth.  I felt like I’d heard that name before, and the vague thought made me pause to wrack at my brain, trying to think of where the hell it’d come from.  Someone I already met?  A story? 

Or, then again, maybe I was just thinking of the word ‘phlegm’.

She didn’t let me think for long, because her staring was intense and, apparently, she was not satisfied with my introduction.

“Fitz?” she said, as though tasting the word.  I got the feeling that she was putting on a show, but I didn’t know in what way.  “Surely that is not your real name?”

“Heh.” I let out an unintentional huff of laughter.  “It’s the name I go by.”

Her smirk fell a bit as I used her own words against her, but she recovered quickly.  I could see her gearing up to say something else, and I had the wildest sense that I did not want to hear it.  I spoke before she could do more than open her mouth, and my mind spouted off the first thing I could think of.

“What happened to that spirit?” I asked, and then had to repeat myself when I realized I might’ve slurred my words in my mad rush to speak first. 

Instead of answering right away, Flemeth watched me for a moment.  I would’ve started babbling if she kept quiet any longer, but luckily she took pity on me or something.

“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking,” she told me.  “He was just a young thing, very full of himself.  As children are wont to do.”  The woman gave me a significant look, which I simply returned with raised eyebrows. 

“It said it was old,” I said quickly, adding an accusatory edge to my voice.  “Said it’d seen some serious shit, too.”

“Do you doubt my words?  My wisdom?” Flemeth asked, almost laughing.  I faltered, because I’d expected her to be annoyed.  Not humored.  “Child, what is old to you is likely to be nothing to me.  That spirit may have lived a long life, but he was still young and arrogant, with little regard for his own fallibility.”

“That is not to say it is not curious,” she went on, in a sly way that had me tensing up again, “how your sheer presence was able to reduce a spirit of knowledge to an uncanny likeness of a salivating mutt.”

“Tell me, Fitz,” she continued, quickly and suddenly, and I almost cringed as I realized I hadn’t been able to derail the conversation for as long as I’d hoped.  The old woman didn’t so much as give me a chance to interrupt.  “Which world do you hail from?  For it is tragically obvious that Thedas has never been your home.”

I stumbled back, gaping at her like a goddamn fish. 

“W-what?”

She gave me an unimpressed look, before saying, “I did not just pop by to say hello.  That spirit used a great deal of power trying to keep your little world running.  I happened to see some of it as well, before I broke the illusion.”  Flemeth’s eyes were unbearably curious, and she didn’t waver an ounce.

“But…how–”

“Oh, please,” she said, simply speaking over me. “I know a great deal, child.  Enough to not be surprised to hear of worlds outside of my own.” 

“That scenery…” she went on, probably sensing that I was still unable to form a coherent sentence. “It was unlike any I have seen before, and I know it cannot be any product of this world.  So, the question remains.  Where do you call home?”

“I’ve been on Thedas for…ten years.  I call _here_ home now,” I said, setting my jaw and daring her to push it.  She dropped the smirk completely this time.

“I can understand why you would be reticent,” she said after a short, awkward, silence.  “However, I ask merely for knowledge’s sake.”

I watched, tensed, as she walked a bit to the side, her hands clasped behind her and her gaze on the green sky above us.  She looked natural here, in the Fade, and I felt sick to my stomach.

“You do not fear me, do you?” she asked, turning her head slight to look at me curiously.  “I daresay you are certainly strong, in your own way.”  She paused after that weird compliment, a thoughtful look passing over her features, before tacking on, “In body, at least.  It seems your mind and emotions are just as susceptible to the Fade’s penchant for skewing reality, as with any mortal.”

“Yeah, believe or not, I already knew that,” I retorted with a scowl.  “Listen, lady, I don’t know why you wanna know my shit, but back off with the ‘for knowledge’ bullshit.  I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”  I raised my fists to back up my words.

“And I won’t hesitate to fuckin’ deck you either – and, trust me, if you’re a demon, you don’t want that,” I warned, my shoulders tensed and my legs spread apart in a fighting stance. 

“So quick to close your ears.  So suspicious,” she commented, with raised brows.  She just looked amused at my threats, and the constant mirth was really grating on my nerves.  “And yet, here you remain, standing before me and practically begging me to keep talking.  Rather contradictory, don’t you think?”

I scoffed.  “I dunno what the fuck you been smokin’, but I ain’t ask for–”

“Dear child, I ask you to refrain from speaking to me in such a crude manner.  It is very unbecoming,” she reprimanded, and I immediately shut it.  Felt kind of like whiplash, the way she made me feel like I’d just did something bad and my arms dropped on their own accord.  “I’d ask you to lose the petulant scowl as well, but I believe that’s a natural feature of yours, yes?  You have that look about you.  It is no matter.”  She waved a lofty hand, and I felt my so-called petulant scowl deepen.

“You want to leave this place, is that not true?  It is the only reason why you have not stormed off yet.  Some part of you knows that I hold the key to what you so sorely wish,” she said, her eyes turning more serious as she set them on me.  “Which I do, mind you.”

“Yeah?  And how am I supposed to trust you?” I asked, folding my arms tightly across my chest.  My fingers dug into my biceps as I sent her a hard look.  “You’re probably just another demon.”

Flemeth sighed, like she was disappointed in my reply, and started walking towards me.

“Hey!” I yelped, trying to hold my ground when I really just wanted to stumble backwards, away from her.  “Don’t come any closer!  I’ll fuck you up, man!”

She laughed.  “Child, your blustering bravado does very little here.  I can see through the act easily.”  She shook her head at me, and only paused in her movements for a brief second as she spoke.

“I have no desire to harm you, little one, so please think clearly.  Has anyone in this place been able to touch you and not flounder backwards as though your skin were a roaring fire?” 

I noticed that Flemeth’s eyes were laughing as she appealed to my sense of reasoning, but my mind was still a mess when she resumed walking towards me. 

“N-no,” I answered slowly, beginning to wonder if she could truly be a person and not some deranged spirit.

Still, I was trembling as I continued standing my ground.  I tried to school my expression into one of impassiveness as she neared; it wasn’t like I could even try to deny what she was saying.  And, if she really wasn’t a demon, it meant that I was talking to an actual fucking _human_.  I didn’t quite know how to feel about that.  It would change things, but it just didn’t seem possible.

Then again, what if she was a demon, and it turned out she _could_ touch me despite that?  Where would that put me?  In deep fucking shit, that’s for sure.  If I somehow started to lose my one saving grace, I’d be fucked.  _So_ _fucked_.

“Then, if my hand can handle the natural repel of your being, would it not prove that I am as I say I am?”  Flemeth stopped, just a mere few inches away from where I stood, and looked at me with one hand raised.

I blinked, momentarily confused by her sentence, and she seemed to take it as a permission of some sort, placing her hand on my shoulder in one quick movement.

I was left gaping once again when she held it there; she did not recoil, or fall backwards in pain, whatsoever.

Recovering from the surprise, I shook her off and stumbled to the side, putting at least five feet in between us.  “Uh…what… _the_ _fuck_ –”

“Yes, dear, I know.  Very shocking,” Flemeth said, mocking me with false sympathy at my stuttering.  “But, now you see, yes?  I am very much _not_ a spirit, nor any other creation of the Fade.  I daresay you are a little beyond this place.  None of its inhabitants will ever be able to do more than glance through you, like a child thumbing through a book they do not understand.”

“Okay, if you’re not–” I choked on my words, still doubting; still wondering if I was breaking down in here. 

“You said you could get me out.  How?” I asked, the words tumbling out.  I didn’t care about Flemeth’s mockery, or how dangerous she might be.  I didn’t even care about what her true intentions were.  If I was breaking down, losing whatever resistance that once kept me safe, then I was fucked either way.  Might as well see what she had to say.  Best case scenario: Flemeth actually helps me get home and I don’t die in the Fade, slowly losing my mind.

I wanted out of here.  I wanted to go home.

“I will show you a way.  It will lead you right to your friends, which I am sure you will be glad to know,” she told me, smiling once more.  “But, first, you must do something for me.  Fair is fair, child.  Unless, of course, you would rather stay here.  Perhaps wait for a more powerful spirit than the last one to happen upon you.”

I shuddered, involuntarily, and my mind flashed to the image of Hawke bearing down on me, saying such hurtful things, and the way it made me shut down so completely.  My mind obviously wasn’t near as strong as my body in this place.  I didn’t think I could handle a repeat performance of last time.  Aside from one small part of me screaming about lies, my brain was telling me to just give Flemeth a chance; it was better than some unknown, potentially worse, alternative.  It’s not like I was overflowing with ideas on how to get out of here anyway.

_She’s lying.  She wants to use you like the last one.  She doesn’t have a way for you to escape._

I shoved away the voice yelling at me to run, which happened to be pretty loud, and ignored all of its warnings.

“Yeah, okay,” I replied, rather twitchily.  “Whatever.”

~

“Hawke.”

Hawke turned, blinking at the dwarf standing before him with bleary eyes.  It took a moment to form words, as the tome he had been reading was still deeply ingrained into his head, but eventually he was able to mumble out a few slurred words that sounded roughly like, “Wassit?”

“We need to talk,” Varric said, with a great deal of somber seriousness.  “I meant to tell you earlier, but we got side-tracked and…well, it doesn’t matter much.  Let’s go somewhere else, yeah?”

Dorian huffed from his seat across from the other two.  “Yes, and while you’re at it, be a little more suspicious.  I haven’t quite mustered up the dying need to know what this is about.”

“Some things don’t need advertisement, Sparkler.  But, you know that.”  The two men shared knowing looks for a quick moment, as Hawke hauled himself out of the chair he had been slouched in, stretching with only the slightest cringe.

“Oh, do hurry back.  That book hasn’t gotten nearly the right amount of glaring it deserves,” Dorian said, in lieu of goodbye. 

“Why don’t you just chuck it for me?” Hawke replied, sending a dry look to the mage.  “It was more useless than the last one.”

Dorian hummed, and said, “I think I will look through it myself first.  However, I do not doubt your sentiments.”

Hawke rolled his eyes at Varric, and then the two of them were heading for the nearby staircase.  They passed Solas on their way to the ramparts, giving the elf a simple nod as they did, and even when the two men were finally out into the open, they kept walking.

They walked until they had reached a farther section of the castle walls; a space Hawke had frequented much during his first few days with the Inquisition.

It was out of the way, and many people did not venture towards the area.  And, when the wind was being particularly loud, as it was now, even Leliana’s spies would not be able to hear any words exchanged between the two men. 

“Well, I’m guessing it’s something important,” Hawke sighed, mind already deducing.  “Does it have anything to do with that letter you wouldn’t read the other day?”

A short incline of the dwarf’s head was enough of an answer, but Varric spoke as well.

“It would have killed the mood,” he explained, a slight edge to his voice.  “I sent word to Blondie, as you asked, and I suppose it found him well enough.  How you even knew where he was – I don’t want to know.”

“We kept in touch,” Hawke replied, shortly.  “What did he say?”

“Here,” Varric said, pushing the letter in question at the other man.  Hawke grabbed it up quickly, eagerly, and began to read it even as Varric continued to speak.  “He wants to meet, Hawke.  Do you know how difficult that’s going to be, just to arrange it?  You know how tough the spymaster’s people are?”  When it looked like Hawke was going to ignore him, Varric knew he had to take it up a step.

“She knew about Fitz, Hawke, nearly from the start.  She knew he was one of ours.”

Surprised, Hawke paused momentarily and looked up from the letter he’d been devouring.  “Did she?  How in the Void did she find that out?”

After he left, they hadn’t immediately wiped all trace of Fitz from Kirkwall.  It wasn’t until after the invasion, and after the following crackdown, that Hawke began to think about covering Fitz’ tracks.  Hawke had been mad, and certainly bitter, but the fact of the matter was: Fitz chose to leave.  He chose to cut ties with them all, and as baffling and hurtful as it was, Hawke couldn’t let Fitz become a potential target because of him.  It was about all he could do, since he couldn’t even leave Kirkwall to go searching for Fitz without risking the well-being of an entire city that had already gone to complete shit.

“She has her ways.  You’ve met her,” Varric scoffed, looking at the man incredulously.  “Don’t tell me you’re actually surprised.”

Hawke just shrugged.  “I thought we did a well enough job of erasing Fitz from Kirkwall history.  Nobody would have known to go after him unless–”

“Unless they met him first, which the Nightingale sure did.  She dug him up, jogged a few memories – got people in Kirkwall talking.  She’s good, Hawke.”

“Apparently so,” Hawke replied, flatly.  “I think we’ll manage, though.  The Inquisition has far greater problems than a lone apostate.”

Varric nearly threw his hands up at the dismissive response, but was able to swallow down his frustration as he thought it over more.  Meeting with a known, and wanted, criminal – the same one who was not only being blamed for everything that happened in Kirkwall, but for the entire mage rebellion as well – wouldn’t necessarily be a problem for _them_.  Blondie would just have to be prepared to run for it after their business was concluded, because no matter where they meet, there were sure to be Inquisition spies tailing them. 

“Couldn’t you just speak with your Inquisitor, Varric?” Hawke asked, having returned his attention back to the letter causing this dilemma.  “Explain why Anders is needed.  They will overlook our connections with a known fugitive this once.  And, like I said, I’m sure the Inquisition has more on its plate than just one man, in any case.”

Varric sighed.  Hawke had a point.  “I’ll do that.  The Inquisitor is a fair woman.  She was pretty sympathetic to Blondie’s plight when she was asking me all about Kirkwall, too, so I suppose I can convince her to be hush-hush about this.”

“Perfect,” Hawke drawled, a light grin spreading across his face as he looked up from the letter once more, folding the paper as he did.  “Well, then.  How about we head out now?  You’re not doing anything, are you?”

Varric really should have expected this.  He really should have.

“You had no problem reading Blondie’s cipher, I see,” the dwarf commented, flatly.  “I’m guessing he suggested a place to meet then?”

“He certainly did,” Hawke replied, grin now fuller than ever.  “He’ll be there in just about a week.  If we leave today, we might only make him wait a day or two.”  The man shoved the letter into a pocket and shifted to the side, gesturing for Varric to follow him as he led the trek back to the castle.

“So, what do you say?  Gather up the others and let’s ditch this place.”  Hawke thought over his words, and added, “For now, of course.  Not forever.”

Varric sighed, again.  Hawke was excited, he could tell by the new bounce in the man’s step, and Varric couldn’t help but be wary.  He still conceded, however.

“Sure, why not?  Let me just find the Inquisitor, and get my shit together.”

Hawke clasped his friend on the shoulder, making the dwarf lurch a bit from the strength.  “It’s a plan!  My stuff is still packed.  I’ll find the others.  Meet you at the gates?  In let’s say an hour?”

Varric nodded, and the two split up.

Varric just wished Hawke wouldn’t get his hopes up, not that he was about to say anything like that out loud.  Perhaps Blondie would know more than them, the guy did have a spirit joined to his hip.  One could hope.

Varric, for one, just hoped Cassandra wouldn’t find out about this one.  The last thing he needed was to have her try to throw him off a banister again.

Maker help them all.

~

Stepping out of the Eluvian and back onto earth was an intriguing feeling, and Amrita wondered how Morrigan could have ever lived in a place anywhere like the Crossroads; it seemed just as odd as living in the Fade.

“Even with this,” Morrigan said, gesturing towards the Eluvian, “it takes a great amount of power to enter the Fade.  I have been studying it, of course, but I can redouble my efforts if that is your wish.”

“It is,” Amrita said without even thinking, as she stared at the mirror and replayed Morrigan’s words in her head.  It took her a moment to speak again, and when she finally did, her words fell out in one rushed breath.

“Whatever you need, just ask and it is yours.  Morrigan, you have no idea how much this means to – Oh, Creators,” she ended with a gasp, looking ready to jump up and down.  

“Merrill will have to know of this!” 

At the pointed look from Morrigan, Amrita elaborated, “Merrill has studied Eluvians as well.  I’ve been speaking with her, she just mentioned it in passing.  Her knowledge could be invaluable in addition to yours.”

Morrigan looked skeptical, but refrained from speaking against the Inquisitor.  She doubted that the woman Amrita spoke of truly knew the implications of a relic such as what Morrigan currently had, and even if the woman did have knowledge of Eluvians, it was likely to either be inconsequential or limited.  However, Morrigan also found it unwise to share any of these doubts with the Inquisitor, who seemed wholly convinced of the other woman’s ability.  If anything, it would be a happy surprise to have another’s input, should it be of the useful kind. 

“Very well, Inquisitor.  I await for the chance to speak with your friend.  Shall I–”

“Hold that thought!  I’ll go get her now!  I’ll be right back!”

Before Morrigan could blink, the Inquisitor’s back was facing her and the other woman was flying from the room.  There was an awkward moment as Morrigan registered the uncharacteristic rudeness that the Inquisitor had just displayed, but she shrugged it off.  That sort of behavior was actually rather tame, though everything really does pale in comparison to the company she had travelled with many years ago. 

Regardless, Morrigan simply resolved to clasp her hands together and wait, as the Inquisitor had bid.

When the Inquisitor returned, it was with a small elven woman in tow.  The newcomer had a kind look about her, almost making her seem unassuming, but Morrigan did not miss the way that her eyes immediately attached themselves to the Eluvian upon entering the small room.

Merrill wasted no time in striding towards the tall mirror, only giving a belated greeting to Morrigan after Amrita introduced the two.  She was much more preoccupied with the mirror in front of her, evidenced by the way she began looking over the Eluvian with an awed gaze and fluttering hands. 

Though she was caught off guard by the familiarity in the elf’s actions, Morrigan proceeded to relay the same information she had just given the Inquisitor, who had trailed after Merrill in a slightly more subdued fashion.  Amrita stood off to the side, prepared to give the other two women their space, and refrained from speaking after conducting the briefest of introductions.

“Oh yes,” Merrill finally said, after Morrigan had finished speaking, gazing at the Eluvian with an appreciative eye.  “You have done very well in restoring this Eluvian.  You must know a great deal about ancient elven lore.”  She looked to Morrigan with a slightly impressed expression on her face, and smiled.  Morrigan returned the attention by adopting a rather reserved look of acknowledgement, going so far as to even inclining her head at the compliment. 

“Does it work?” Merrill asked, curiously, as she continued to inspect the mirror.

Morrigan raised her brows at the question, looking a tad insulted, and replied, “Of course it works.”  She paused for a moment, watching as the elf walked around the Eluvian with an air of peculiar expertise, before continuing.  “I have studied the art of the Eluvians extensively for a number of years.  I believe the Inquisitor mentioned that you have also obtained a certain amount of knowledge on the topic, is that correct?”

Merrill hid a smile by ducking her head, and replied, “I suppose you could say that.  I spent quite a few years working on my own mirror.  So, yes, I would say I know a fair amount.”

“Your own Eluvian?” Morrigan asked, her eyes a bit wide.

“Yes!  Two of my old clan found one a long time ago…it was corrupted, and bad things happened, but I knew I could fix it if I tried,” Merrill replied, her voice gaining a rather sad, nostalgic edge to it as she remembered how she first came upon her Eluvian.  She recovered quickly, as her tone switched to contemplative as she went on, “I really only had a few shards to work with, so my mirror isn’t as authentic as the one you have here.  Rather, it is more of a…replica, I suppose.”

“You…” Morrigan started to say, still staring, but just then Amrita broke into the conversation with an eagerness that was shown very clearly on her face.

“Lady Morrigan says it might help us find Fitz.  What do you think, Merrill?”

Merrill made a small, interested noise at the proposal, before deep thought overshadowed the pleased feeling that Amrita’s words originally inspired.  “Oh, that would be _wonderful_!  It will not be so easy, of course, but the idea itself is possible.”  She bit her bottom lip, and began to pace as she thought it over.

“Hmm…let me see.  We would need to know Fitz’ whereabouts, exact or relative, and if we could communicate with him, that would be even better!  I suppose if Hawke’s plan manages…”

“What was that?”

“Oh!  Right, you don’t know yet…Varric’s looking for you,” Merrill explained, without really explaining, before she jumped topics yet again.  “Morrigan!”

She turned to the woman with excited eyes.  “We have much to talk about.  I must hear of your travels, and more.  Just let me fetch my books, and I really must speak with Hawke too – this changes things! – but I’ll only be a moment!”

The elf turned and hurried from the small room, much like how the Inquisitor had a little while ago, and Morrigan almost sighed at the spontaneity of it all. 

“She’s like that,” Amrita said, almost cheerily, as she was still getting used to the new elven mage as well.  “Wait until we tell her about the Well of Sorrows.  I wonder if I can convince her to join us?”

Amrita smiled, liking the idea of hearing more of Merrill's thoughts, before she remembered the words Merrill had hastily tossed out before leaving.

“Oh, but I should probably go see what Varric wants soon…”

~

They met him in a cave.  It might’ve even been a nice cave, if not for the dreadful chill that came with being in the heart of the Frostbacks.

“I suppose we couldn’t have met him somewhere more north than here?” Varric asked dryly, looking around the cave in distaste.  “That would have been asking for way too much.”

“I would have booked us a room in Orlais, just for you Varric,” Hawke replied.  He had led them to this place, somehow knowing that Anders was here, though there was little to no markers that would have alerted him of the other man’s presence.  “But, then I thought – fugitive mage, the one accountable for Kirkwall _and_ the mage rebellion, and I figured it might be best to _not_ parade him around the general populace.”

Varric whistled, low.  “Alright.  Don’t run me through.  Was just a comment.”  The dwarf exchanged glances with the other two of their party, raising his eyebrows and grinning widely.  This new journey had given Hawke an air of new life; an air which had not been with him during their time at Skyhold.

“Haven’t even greeted me yet, and I’m already hearing of the past,” a voice said, from farther into the cave.  “Would it be possible to restrain from digging at old wounds?”

“If you had not blown up a Chantry and murdered a number of innocents, we might have heeded that request,” Fenris said, ever so bluntly.  He frowned at the mage before them, lifting the torch he held higher.  The light fell on the other, who shielded his eyes half-heartedly, and it seemed to emphasize the dark circles under his eyes as well as the overall raggedness of the man’s current state.  It was easy enough to tell that Anders had certainly not seen any Orlesian hotels recently, nor a razor.

“Anders,” Hawke greeted, his tone not holding the same accusations that Fenris’ had.  He strode forward to clasp the man’s hands and to pull him into a quick hug, which Anders returned with just as much enthusiasm. 

“Hawke, it’s good to see you,” he said, looking the man over for any signs of poor health, before nodding another greeting to the rest of the company. 

“You look dreadful as always,” Isabela said, brightly, from next to Fenris.  She had one hand on her hip, looking as casual as could be; as though they were not sneaking around the Inquisitions’ back to meet with a known criminal.  Fenris didn’t say anything, even when Isabela sent an elbow his way.  He remained stone-faced, and after a quick stare, decided to look the other way rather than at the tired mage in front of them.

“Blondie,” Varric said, a bit warily, as he leaned against the cavern’s wall and looked around at them all.  “Well, we’re almost a full reunion.  Merrill is sorry she couldn’t be here.  She’s doing some work with the Inquisition.  And, Aveline is, of course, still guarding the entirety of Kirkwall.”

Anders made a small, interested noise, seeming curious about the Inquisition.  While he had only heard the bare minimum about the organization, his isolated lifestyle did not allow for any sort of information overflow. 

“Yes, Hawke’s spoken of the Inquisition before, as have many others,” he commented, after only the slightest hesitation.  “How is it, working with them?”

“Good people,” Varric replied.  “Good at fixing other people’s messes…you know, that sort of thing.”

An awkward silence ensued after Varric’s short answer, but Hawke refused to let it linger for too long.

“We’ve much to tell you,” he said, his tone bordering on urgent.  “Is there a place for us to sit?”

Anders nodded, shifting around towards where he had come from.  “Back here.  I’ve set up a small camp, we can get a fire going, and talk about…”

He let the words hang, knowing that Fitz was the topic and not really knowing how to proceed.  Anders didn’t know what had happened; all he knew was that Fitz had somehow been found, and then lost once again.  Seemed rather like a whirlwind, if you asked him, but then again, Fitz had always been like that.

As with the others, Hawke explained everything, sparing no details, not even the matters of Fitz’ background.  It took a while and the setting wasn’t exactly ideal, but the fire they made at least warded off the worst of the mountain’s chill. 

Anders, his composure firm even as Hawke told him that the boy they knew was even more lost than the last time, reacted with quiet reflection.  When Hawke finally fell silent, the other man heaved a sigh and searched for the rights words to reply with.

“Well, I can’t really say I’m surprised,” he said, after a moment of silence. 

He personally held some reservations about the truth of Fitz’ homeland, and suspected it to be more of a smattering of truths rather than an absolute.  Coming from a completely different world was just too out there; it was far more likely that Fitz simply came from a land that held its secrets closely, such as the old settlement that once inhabited Haven before the Inquisition.  That was the story they had always suspected about the boy, back when they were all in Kirkwall and wondering just where in the Void this weird kid came from.  Still, Anders could tell that it was a time to humor Hawke, if the looks the others were giving him meant anything, so he complied and did not question the story. 

“I always shrugged it off, but the way Justice acted around him…it seemed to imply that there was something not quite right about Fitz.”

Fenris snorted.  While the others sat in a semi-circle around the fire, he had preferred to stay standing, in a place just behind Hawke.  Now, he looked at the man who had just spoken with barely concealed contempt.  “That is certainly rich, coming from you.”

Anders replied with a blank face, all too used to the jabs.  “Yes, thank you, Fenris.  May I continue?”

Fenris just raised his eyebrows, maintaining the wry look in his eyes as he held the mage’s gaze.

Hawke intervened, as he always did when those two were looking to exchange increasingly hostile words.  “Anders, explain.  What did Justice say about Fitz?”

Anders shook his head, returning his attention back to Hawke.  “That’s just it…he didn’t say anything.  He never seemed aware that Fitz even existed.  I had just thought, the boy annoyed him, but…”

Hawke didn’t even try to ease his next words into the conversation.  He didn’t have the head, or the time, for it.

“We think there is a way for you to find Fitz.  Even while he's in the Fade.”

Anders stared at the man like he’d finally lost it.  “Hawke, I just said–”

Hawke shook his head.  “No, you don’t get it.  Fitz has changed.  We believe that the invisibility he has, the one that shielded him from spirits and demons…from Justice…it’s possible he’s losing it.  If you could, if Justice can–”

“You don’t realize what you’re asking,” Anders cut in.  “It would be like Feynriel all over again.  Perhaps even more dangerous.  Fitz could be anywhere by now…”

“But Justice could sense him,” Hawke said, eagerly leaning forward so to stress his meaning.  “The Inquisition has a spirit – a human?  I’m sorry, Varric is more knowledgeable about this kid than I, but he told me that if a spirit looked hard enough, and knew who he was looking for, it would be possible.  Justice can find Fitz, with your help.”

“Hawke, be realistic,” Anders said, nearly snapping at the man.  “Even if we find Fitz, then what?  We still have no idea how to enter the Fade.  No idea how to get Fitz out of there.”

“That’s where Merrill comes in,” Hawke answered readily.  “And I will explain everything, I promise you.  But, for now…I – we just need to _find_ him.”

Quiet once again reigned after Hawke’s rather impassioned speech.  Anders stared at the fire, as if in deep thought, most likely mulling over the words Hawke had just presented to him.  The others, however, exchanged glances; doubtful, perhaps.  They could all remember what happened with Feynriel quite well, and Hawke’s idea was hopeful at best, and naïve at worst.

“I have the ritual right here,” Hawke was practically begging, and he moved to rifle through his pack.  Pulling out a few carefully folded pages, he shoved them into Anders’ hands.  “If we could just test it out, here – make sure it actually works?”  The look on Hawke’s face was definitely begging, and ultimately impossible to say no to.

“We’ll need to take precautions,” Anders finally announced, with a sigh.  He stared at Hawke, and his eyes were tired, but they also held a new quality to them; it was something a lot like willpower.  “I’m sure Fenris will be pleased to take up his sword.”

“I would be more pleased if you succeed,” the elf replied, surprising everyone with his lack of hostility. 

Hawke grinned, and nodded his head, practically buzzing with excitement; with hope. 

“Excellent,” he said.  “So, Merrill sent us instructions…”

~

Flemeth didn’t want much.  She just wanted to talk, as much as I hate talking, and it was more or less like what the knowledge spirit wanted from me; she wanted to hear about my world, and about how I got here.  She even wanted to know what I’ve been doing since then. 

I don’t think Flemeth was surprised about my lack of certainty on the world-hopping thing, and she didn’t press it too much.  Honestly, it was hard to tell if she was truly interested while I spoke, or just playing like it.  She wasn’t even surprised to learn that I was part of the Inquisition, or that I knew the Inquisitor personally.  I mean, that’s kind of cool, so I was expecting a little bit of awe, but I guess she was just weirder than I thought.

The last part of our deal, before she would tell me how to get home, Flemeth wanted me to do something for her.  Except, she refused to tell me exactly what that something was.

“Look, lady.  I don’t care who you are,” I told her, practically grinding the words out.  My jaw felt tight, and I worried that if I loosened it, I’d crumble.  “I’m not gonna play your fuckin’ games, I can tell you that right now.  Either you be straight with me, or you fuck off.”

“There is a way out,” she said, stressing her words in a loud, firm voice.  Her eyes pierced into mine, and I could tell that she wasn’t being mocking any more.  “One that only I can give you.  Which I will only do if you agree to my terms.”

“You’re askin’ for blind faith that you won’t screw me over later,” I said, scowling at her.  “Ask me to assassinate the fuckin’ Inquisitor or some shit.  Not gonna play that, man.”

Flemeth laughed, and the sound made me cringe.  “I would never ask you to take a life.  I will tell you when the time comes, but I will not ask for anything akin to _murder_.  Silly child.”

I didn’t like it, didn’t trust any of this.  But, I was also thinking; once I’m out of the Fade, what could she possibly do to me if I refused to comply with whatever fucked up thing she asks of me?  If what she wanted was really that bad…well, I had an entire fucking Inquisition to protect me.  So, what the hell.

“Fine,” I said tightly, hoping I wasn’t being too obvious about my previous thoughts.  “Whatever.  Now tell me how to get outta here.”

“You’ve been here for some time, haven’t you?” she began, and I was slightly surprised that she agreed to my change of topic at all.  “I’m sure you passed a great many of mirrors in your travels.  They would have stood out a great deal, even to you.”

I thought, but not for long.  “Yeah.  Huge ones.  Kind of like the one M – uh…”  I made a face, letting the sentence die awkwardly.  I didn’t want to say any names.

“Oh, yes.  I suppose you have seen one before.  Silly me, I forget these things sometimes,” she laughed briefly, but was continuing before I even had time to ask what the hell she meant by that.  “Good, I was hoping you still had the presence of mind to remember such things.  I was worried by the...signs you were showing.  But, it seems to matter not.”

“Those mirrors are no simple feature of the Fade, nor are they simply mirrors.  They are, in fact, called Eluvians, and they are a relic of an ancient past that I am sure you have no interest for and which I have little time to explain.”  Flemeth was brisk, suddenly all business, but I didn’t complain.  I was beginning to feel something a lot like hope, and I had to cross my arms to hide the shaking in my hands.

“I will give you directions to one Eluvian in particular, and from there on it will be up to you to find your way home.”

“You’re not just gonna show me?  How the hell–”

“A journey, my child, is not always going to come with written directions and a hand to hold.  You are lucky enough to receive my words alone.  Lucky, not entitled.”

“So, that’s the catch then,” I said, dryly.  “You’re givin’ me nothing concrete.  Just gonna send me on my way, tell me ‘this’ or ‘that’, and _maybe_ I’ll reach my destination.  God knows there ain’t no obstacles in this fuckin’ place.”

“Are you complaining, dear?” she questioned, with some played-up disbelief in her tone.  “For last I checked, you had _nothing_ before I came along.  You were just going to let a spirit make home in that thick head of yours.  I, on the other hand, am giving you a fighting chance.  Do you not wish to return to Hawke?”

My insides froze.  “How’d you know ‘bout him?”

She gave me a look, which was quickly becoming known as _the_ _look_ , and said, “Child, what part of, ‘I watched as that spirit recreated your old home right before your eyes’, did you not understand?  Are you incompetent, or do you simply not listen?”

I forced myself to calm down, even though her words kind of pissed me off.  “It’s a touchy subject, so sue me,” I replied.  Then, after waiting a beat, I went on.

“Okay.  I’ll take it,” I announced, straightening up as I made my decision.  As I thought about all the possibilities that came with my decision, the good and the bad, I muttered a quick, “It’s better than nothing”, as well.

She smiled.  “Wonderful.  Just as I expected.”

~

Flemeth didn’t leave me completely hanging.

The mirror, or Eluvian, that I had to look for was apparently nearby, though it wasn’t exactly next door to where we were now.  Flemeth said it was located in a pocket-like place where no spirit or demon ruled, though I wasn’t placing any bets on it being spirit-free.  Supposedly, there wasn’t much life there at all, but again, I was going to remain skeptical.

Flemeth didn’t even say something like, “go north and ye shall find” (because, yeah, that’s a whole lot of help in this fucking place).  Instead, her directions went more along the lines of waving a hand and conjuring a door out of nowhere.  I say door, but it was really an archway; huge, with white pillars and shit.  When I looked through it, nothing was different from where we currently stood, like I could walk through it and my only achievement would’ve been that I walked through a fucking archway.  I know it was one of those mind-fucking things, like the rest of the Fade, and I only point it out because of how it made me feel.

I realized I was getting used to this sort of non-linear setting.  It didn’t seem so weird anymore, when the scenery changes at will, because that kind of thing was just normal.  Made me think that I’d been in here for way too long.  I didn’t really want to know how long it’d been either.  I was actually too scared to think hard on it, to be dead honest.

“You must remember,” Flemeth said to me, seriously.  “The Black City must always be behind you.  You should be walking away from it, not to it.”

“Yeah, I know.  You said that like ten times already.”

“You must believe in yourself.  If you haven’t the will, you haven’t the power.”

“Ugh, yes, I’m Peter Pan.  Don’t believe, won’t fly.  Got it.”

“Oh, and I suppose I should tell you about the spirit you must face upon finding the Eluvian.”

‘Yea–” I began to say, before choking.  “What?!”

Flemeth raised a brow.  “There will be a spirit guarding the Eluvian.  Did you already forget the key I spoke of?  Surely you did not think you would touch the mirror and pass right through?  As if it would be so easy.”

“Easy?  Me, thinking things might be _easy_?  No, of course not.  When in my whole life, have I ever–”

“Please, child.  I tire of the attitude,” she cut me off with a flippant tone and a waved hand.  “The spirit will be strong, but I think you will be more than apt at handling yourself.  Should your mind be well guarded…unlike the last time.”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered, folding my arms and holding in everything else I wanted to say to that.  I didn’t appreciate the jab, or the condescension.  I really, really wanted to get away from this weird woman.  I may have been playing along for last-ditch purposes (desperation and all that), and I may have even agreed to the terms of her offer, but that didn’t mean I trusted her.  Fuck, no. 

"Doors require keys," Flemeth said, and I knew she was being frustrating on purpose.  It was fucking deliberate.  "You have neither the knowledge nor the power to access my Eluvian on your own, so it is another key you will need.  We shall see if you are worthy."

“Oh my god," I said, looking up and away from her before I decided to curse at her.  "That it?  Seriously?  Can't just give me a fuckin' key, you know, like a normal person?  Just a little piece of metal or-"

“There is little else to say, I’m afraid.  It is time you head on.”  Flemeth took a step to the side, away from the arch she had been blocking, and motioned for me to go through.  I swallowed everything I wanted to say, knowing I wasn't going to get anything else from this woman.

I stood there for a second, just staring at the other side of the open doorway in front of me.  Then, forcing myself not to think about it, I took a breath and stepped through.

~

You know, walking is great. 

It’s just fantastic.  Good for the soul and shit, but you know what else?  It’d be a hell of a lot better if I weren’t so fucking twitchy.  Going for a nice stroll isn’t so fun when you’re stuck in a goddamn endless loop of the same damn rocks and green smog.  Like, yeah, I passed by some broken tables, and I think I even saw a chair one time, but for the most part; this place was completely fucking deserted.  A total fucking wasteland. 

I was almost looking forward to meeting the spirit Flemeth warned me about.  Though, it was in that small sort of way where I had absolutely zero desires to run into another of those fuckers, but, at the same time, I wanted to know I wasn’t the only person alive. 

That’s what I thought, but I still wasn’t prepared for the little voice that popped up on my left.

“You should turn back.”

I _so_ didn’t scream.  However, I did whirl around with my fists raised, looking for whatever just said that. 

It was smaller than the last spirit.  More of a wisp than anything.  It flickered like crazy, almost as if it weren’t used taking on a shape or whatever, and something inside of me told me that this guy was much weaker than the knowledge spirit.  This spirit shone yellow; faint and unsure, but there all the same.  It hovered quite a few yards away from me, and it was pretty obvious that the thing knew about my boundary issues.

“Don’t talk to me,” I said clearly, dismissing the spirit after that short glance over, and then began to walk forward again.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see it following me while still keeping the same amount of distance between us.

“What lies ahead is dangerous,” it told me, in a way that was almost earnest.  “A spirit guards what is most precious, in the name of those powerful beings who have long been lost.  If you turn back now, you’ll be fine.  It won’t get in your head.” 

I eyed the thing, despite the part of me that was encouraging a full-on cold shoulder approach to this situation.  On some level, I knew this spirit posed no threat to me and, somehow, I could tell that it did not intend to deceive me like the last one.  Still, it made me uncomfortable, and I was just spread so fucking thin from all the persistent mental fuckery that made up this place.  And, now that I didn’t have Flemeth taking up my time, my mind kept replaying images of the illusion she had saved me from.  I couldn’t get rid of the ache that those images left behind; I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was closest I’d ever been to being back on Earth – _my_ Earth.

“Fuck no,” I practically spat back, shaking my head clear.  I sped up, as if to emphasize my point.  “What the fuck else am I gonna do?  This is all I got, man.  You think I’ma keep standin’ around, waiting for fuck all to save me?”

“Someone might be looking for you right now, as we speak,” the spirit replied without missing a beat, not at all affected by my harsh tone.  I was hoping it would sense my hostility and back off, but I suppose it could read me better than that.  The other one was much easier to rile up.

“Yeah, and that someone is doing a fan-fuckin-spectacular job of it,” I muttered back, giving up the aggressive act.  This little spirit couldn’t do much, somehow I just knew it, and its whole demeanor radiated calmness.  I found it almost comforting.

“It is not easy,” the spirit replied after a moment, as if it were agreeing with me.  The spirit was still bobbing along a yard away, in sync with my pace, and even though I had visibly relaxed, it did not venture closer to me.  “You do not really bear resentment to the ones you are looking to return to.  You hurt, but the pain does not go deep.  You do not doubt the power your friends hold, and yet you would still risk–”

“Please don’t,” I said, wearily.  I didn’t look at the thing, just kept walking.  The Black City wasn’t anywhere in my line of sight, so I knew I going the right way.  “I was just startin’ to like you, man.  Don’t get all ‘mind-games’ on me, all right?”

I saw it shimmer, its form phasing in and out for a moment, before it seemed to solidify again. 

“I did not mean any harm.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, trying not to think about how similar this conversation sounded.  This spirit reminded me of someone and that’s what made me explain myself, even though I didn’t really have to.  “Of course I don’t doubt ‘em.  I know the shit they do…god, all of them.  Great people and all that shit.  I just…how long have I been sittin’ around for?”

I looked over at the spirit, who was most definitely a spirit of compassion or at least highly compassion-oriented.  I raised my eyebrows when it didn’t say anything.

“See?  It’s like, who the fuck knows?  Right?  And, shit, all I ever do is sit around.  Might as well do somethin’ for myself, yeah?”

“Is that you speaking, or the–”

“It’s _me_ ,” I said, firmly.  “So, like, yeah.  I’m gonna listen to some old lady I met in Disney’s fucking dream land over here.  Fuck, Hawke would be shitting himself if he knew.”

I let out a strangled sound; too low and craggy to be a real laugh, even though that’s what it was meant to be. 

“I see,” the spirit said, and there was a definite edge to its voice that had me looking over again.  It had stopped doing its weird bobbing thing, and the sudden change made me stumble to a halt as well.  The spirit didn’t continue speaking immediately, but when I opened my mouth to say something, the thing finally went on.

“You are truer than you seem, beneath all the confusing edges,” it said.  “I was worried, at first, when the old one asked me to converse with you.  For you are not all that easy to read, and you feel…so different than others I have met.”

I scrunched up my face, not following this weird spiel in the slightest.  I wanted to ask the little guy what the hell he was on, but he wasn’t finished.

“Given more time, I think I might even begin to understand you,” it said, in a rather wistful way.  “However, your path must not be altered any longer.  You know what you wish to do.”

With that last cryptic bit, the spirit left.  It disappeared right before my eyes, leaving me to just stand there, blinking.

I took a moment, to replay its words and to just kind of regroup myself, and then I breathed in deep, and kept going.

~

It was a good thing Hawke had done so much reading in the past months since Adamant.  Among the readings in Skyhold’s library, and that is including the masses of tomes accumulated during the search for entry into the Fade, Hawke had come across a detailed passage of a ritual that was remarkably similar to the one Keeper Marethari had used to allow Hawke, a completely magic-less person, sleepwalk in the Fade. 

Before leaving Skyhold, he had gone over the passage with Merrill, who left even more helpful notes for Hawke to pass on the Anders.  She regretted not being able to come, but her work with the Inquisitor and that other mage could prove just as important as the one Hawke was currently betting on.  In any case, the ritual did work out.  Anders had quickly fallen into a deep sleep, just as they had during the fiasco with the mage boy a long time ago. 

When the sleep broke, Anders all but shot up from where he had been lying on the hard ground, and the violent flurry of movement immediately put the entire group on high-alert.  The old crew had situated themselves around the fire, sitting in a subdued sort of semi-silence while Anders had slept.  The tense hush that had fallen upon them quickly broke as they hurried to surround the mage they had been waiting for.

Hawke, who had been sitting closest to Anders, nearly fell over in his haste to steady his old friend.  He tried to give the man a moment to orient himself, but couldn’t seem to keep his impatient side reigned in any longer.  Hawke gripped Anders’ shoulders, watching as the man laid a hand over his eyes, pressing, and spat his words out with an eager fire that belied his otherwise restrained disposition.

“Well?  What happened?” he asked, leaning forward ever so slightly. 

Anders stayed as he was, holding his head, and didn’t so much respond as he did deflate.  His deep sigh signaled a definite change within the cavern, as it seemed to be enough of an answer in itself.  When Anders finally lifted his head to look at Hawke, his eyes were troubled and he looked as though he did not know what to say, though his lips had parted slightly. 

“Hawke…” he began, eyes darting around to the other three before resting back on the now frozen man holding him.  “I – we tried, we looked everywhere, but Fitz wasn’t…he wasn’t where I could reach him.”  Anders shifted, grabbing onto Hawke’s hands and squeezing.

“That’s not…but–” Hawke shook his head, as if he were preparing to disregard what Anders had just said, though the tension in his body gave him away.

“Hawke, you must understand…the Fade is a vast, and mostly incomprehensible, place.  There is no way for me to search every last nook – at least, not from this cave.  Justice can’t feel Fitz, he has no idea what to search for.  We asked those we could find, but…”

Anders shrugged helplessly.  He had gone through with this venture, knowing full well that it would not be fruitful.  Not unless, by some miraculous chance, Fitz happened to be in a nearby, correlated, section of the Fade.  And that was just too unlikely.

"Hawke," Varric said quietly from across the fire. "We knew this would happen.  This isn't a surprise."

“Yes...you're right, of course,” Hawke began to say, before stopping all together in favor of breathing in deep, steadying himself.  “Well, we know the ritual works.  That’s what we really wanted to find out anyway.”

Everyone could see the disappointment plain on Hawke’s face, despite his reasonable words.  His hands formed fists, seeming to signify a resolve of sorts as he looked up and around at his friends.

“Then, I suppose there is only one place for us to go,” he sighed, and Varric held back a cringe, already knowing what Hawke was about to suggest, “now that we are all together again, for the most part.”  Hawke gave Anders a quick nod, pausing once again as he stood up to stretch.   

He turned to Varric, a humorless smile tugging at his lips.  “Will you write to Merrill?  Just tell her we’re heading for the Western Approach.”

“We’ll probably pass right by her,” Varric commented, already resigned to the long journey.  “But, sure.  I’ll let Daisy know.”

“Just for once, might we ever travel by ship?” Isabela complained, not even bothering to stand as she stretched from where she sat.  “But, no…we must always go to some damned place, farthest from the ocean.  I’ll need new boots by the end of this.”

“Somehow, I think you’ll find a way to suck it up,” Hawke replied dryly, earning a sly grin from the woman. 

“If it’s for Fitz, I suppose,” Isabela sighed, as if it were a huge sacrifice.  “He better be grateful.”

It was too late in the day to begin traveling, so the group settled in for the night.  For Anders, and perhaps for all of them, it was nostalgic to a point of melancholy.  If only it weren’t so cold, it would feel like they were all back in Kirkwall, taking a daytrip to Sundermount. 

If only it were that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcement time! After this chapter, I only have one or two more chapters planned before I gotta put this thing on a hiatus of sorts. I need time to play the DLCs and stuff before I can fully think about the future for Fitz (I still want to keep going, this story is very dear to me).
> 
> That being said, I'm planning on buffing up this story (particularly Act 1) and I've been writing a lot of stuff about the past which I'm thinking of first publishing under part 2 of this series before I begin integrating it into the actual chapters. ((additionally if you have any prompts/something specific you'd like to read, hmu and I'll write it!))
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me, especially after this long wait ! <3
> 
> Also ~ here's fanart of Fitz (being up to no good, of course) from the lovely [Reluak!](https://www.dropbox.com/sc/ct5z2r9aduibqxs/AACvkyn1FgtVWZaJiKaxdTMVa)  
> [[update: 6/18/2016]] just wanted to add beautiful new fanart:  
> [Karshmallow drew Fitz (u should all reblog lol pls)](http://karshilicious.tumblr.com/post/145637753688) and [happysnowdragon drew Fitz and the Kirkwall crew!!](https://www.dropbox.com/s/a6k136sp7jcqtt7/fitz%20and%20co.png?dl=0)


	53. Act III: A Wish, A Well

I kept going back to the last thing Flemeth said to me.  It didn’t seem important at the time, or I was just too focused on what I was about to do.  I’m not sure, I can’t remember it right, but whatever.

It was when we were doing that little goodbye thing (you know, just without the actual word ‘goodbye’) and apparently Flemeth couldn’t help but make one last observation about me, as I stood there gathering the courage to walk through her stupid doorway.

“You do not believe in me,” Flemeth had commented, voice coming out idle and almost careless; as if she were just stating a simple fact about the weather.  It was actually pretty impressive, the way she managed to sound so indifferent and yet vaguely amused at the same time.  “It’s a shame.  Yes, it is wise to question the motives of others, but to disregard truth when it lies right before you…”

“Lady, you haven’t given me any truths,” I replied, wryly.  “Don’t even know what you’re on about now.”

“You think I’m a spirit, attempting yet another trick.”

I laughed, and it came out twisted.  “It's more like I'm bein' cautious.  So what if you can touch me, fan-fuckin’-tastic.  I’m smart enough to know that it probably just means that the Fade is killing every defense I fuckin’ have.”

“Quite the opposite, my child,” Flemeth said, in that same arrogant tone.  “But, would you listen to me, even if I wished to tell you more?  Hmm, consider me doubtful.  Sadly, you are _not_ that smart.”

“Yup,” I said back, drawing the word out obnoxiously.  “Cool, cool.  Leave me to my poor, poor ignorance.  Such a shame.”  I laid a hand on my cheek, giving her a sorrowful look.  “Wow, I might cry from my abundance of stupidity.”

“Alright,” she said, cutting me off before I could gain even more momentum in my sarcastic retort, which was probably for the best since I felt like being particularly insolent at the moment.  “I believe I’ve had just about enough of you.  It’s past time you left.”

It was the cryptic shit that got me.  As I walked, keeping the Black City behind me, I couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘more’ she could have told me.  I couldn’t figure out what she meant by ‘quite the opposite’ either, and it frustrated the shit out of me.  It’s not like I was growing stronger in the Fade, even though that’s what it felt like in the beginning.  Otherwise, how would a spirit have been able to get such a hold in my goddamn head?  That’s not strong in my books.  It just made me feel weak.

I shook Flemeth from my mind, telling myself she was just fucking with me.  That’s all anybody did in here, so of course the only other ‘human’ did it too.  I would admit, I was leaning towards believing that Flemeth was indeed human and that this wasn't actually a dirty Fade trick, but that was mostly because I really, _really_  needed to believe it was possible to get out of here.  Basically had to put my faith in a crazy, old witch who I knew nothing about.

I laughed out loud, not caring if it sounded deranged or not.

“Shit’s fucked up,” I told the green not-sky, stretching my arms high above my head.  “So, so fucked.”

~

It wasn’t spectacular.

I didn’t walk into another blindingly-white platform of marble and wealth, and I didn’t find an equally blindingly-white spirit waiting for me this time.  It was dark, and green, and just about as depressing as all the other places I’ve seen in the Fade, but I was in the right place, my heart told me so.  My eyes did too, since I could clearly see the Eluvian standing before me, though I also wasn’t quite sure I trusted my own eyes anymore.  I felt more secure following my emotions at this point.

I had seen the Eluvian from far off, or perhaps it wasn’t quite that far (difficult to tell these things, honestly); it was closed in by a half-circle of tall rocks, which were for once firmly planted into the swampy ground of the Fade.  They towered up high, nearly as high as the more normal floating ones that still made up the green sky around me.

The spirit wasn’t showing itself, but I knew it was there.  Watching me, probably, and waiting.  I didn’t like the fact that it wasn’t being upfront, it made me antsy, but I refused to let it show on my face.  I refused to let it show at all.

I stretched my arms high above my head, momentarily enjoying the small ‘pop’ that issued from shoulder blades, and looked out at my immediate area with a bored expression on my face. 

“Ugly,” I said in a normal, conversational tone.  “Mirror’s not bad.  Probably needs to be cleaned.”

Nobody said anything, and nothing moved.  I almost made a face, sullenly wishing for the little wisp to make a come-back.  At least he was nice.

I soldiered on, though.  Let this spirit be standoffish and weird all it wants.

“Mirror mirror, on the wall,” I said dully, staring into the Eluvian with unimpressed eyes.  “Who’s the fairest of them all?”

“I haven’t heard of that phrase,” a voice suddenly joined me.  I tilted my head towards it, preferring to look at it through my periphery rather than straight-on.  I hid my surprise when I realized this spirit had taken on a human form, rather than the incorporeal forms I was used to, and I buried my dread as well. 

“What a shame,” I sympathized, a bit insincerely.  I turned towards the spirit slowly, crossing my arms as I moved, and met its eyes.  “So, who’re you – oh.”

I stared, once again barely believing my eyes.  “Digging a bit deep, aren’t we?”

The spirit held its arms out, looking down at its form with a blank look.  “Does my presence bother you?”

“Yeah,” I replied, with a sigh.  “So does the face you’re wearing.  Change it.”

“Perhaps it is not so much this face that is bothering you,” the spirit ventured, bringing its eyes back to mine after it finished inspecting the body it was projecting.  “As it is the fact that you could not immediately recognize your own father’s face.”

I raised my eyebrows, smiling what felt like the tightest smile I’d ever forced myself to wear, and said, “Change, or I’ll shove my fucking fist through your fucking throat.”

The spirit conceded.  In a matter of moments, its face was completely unrecognizable and just about as nondescript as faces could go.  I wondered if it was modeled after a real person.  I wondered why it was trying to look human in the first place.

“Forgive me,” the spirit said, tone flat as could be.  “I chose the first form I could find.  You were thinking of him on your journey here.  I felt it prudent to –”

“Great,” I said, still smiling with my teeth.  “How ‘bout we dispense with the creepy shit?  Flemeth said I gotta challenge you or somethin’.”

“You wish to fight?”

“Do you?”

The spirit gave me no inkling of whether my rejoinder annoyed it or not.  It stared at me placidly for a moment, before speaking again.

“I do not,” it told me, taking me a bit off guard.  “And, it is not necessary that we fight at all.  You need access to this,” it inclined its head towards the Eluvian, “in order to return to your world.  You require a key to do so.”

I squinted my eyes and replied, “A key that you’re supposed to have.”

“Yes,” it agreed, almost sounding amenable.  “And, no.  I am here to see if you are worthy of this gift.”

I didn’t stop myself from making a face at that.  “Oh, well, isn’t that nice.  How you plannin’ to do that?”

The spirit shifted, and for some reason the small movement made me aware of just how _still_ this thing was.  When I actually thought about it, the other spirits were usually more lively…more flighty.

“You have been done a great injustice,” it told me.  “In this world, and in the last.  If you had the power to make it right, what would you do?”

“Make what right?” I asked gravely, probably standing just as still as the spirit in that moment.  “That’s a little vague, man.”

“If it had never happened,” it went on, watching me with serious, hooded eyes, “if you had not been torn from where you belong, would you be happy?”

“Can’t answer somethin’ that I can’t know,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders a little.  “Maybe in that world, I die in a car crash at age eighteen.  Get shot at twenty.”

“At least here, I lived,” I continued, and I inflicted a severe edge to my words when I spoke next, “I don’t like ‘what-if’ games, ya heard?”

“I was not intending to ‘mess with your head’,” it told me blandly, confirming my fear that it knew my thoughts in ways it should not.  “Nevertheless, your answer is satisfactory, and I will endeavor to avoid asking such questions again.”

“You plannin’ on askin’ a lot?” I wondered aloud, casting a pointed look towards the Eluvian.  “’Cuz, I’m kinda in a hurry, ya know?”

The spirit turned its head away from me completely, and it was the first time it so fully took its eyes off of me.  The weight of its stare had been a constant pressure, and the absence left me feeling just a bit heavier; just a bit more tired.

“You gonna clue me in?” I asked, and I sounded just about as tired as I felt.  I made a mental note to cover that up next time.  “Who’s here?”

For another first, the spirit actually lifted the corners of its mouth as it returned its attention to me.  “So, you could tell I was conversing with another?  Very good.”

“Wispy back?”  I made a show of looking around, refraining from calling out in case that sounded too mocking.

“You owe a favor to another.”  

The spirit surprised me with the non sequitur, but not enough to really ruffle me.  I had a long time to strengthen my ability to withstand verbal attack, and that’s just talking about the constant reminders I gave myself on the walk to this stupid Eluvian.  Just speaking with Flemeth had helped me to rebuild most of the walls that the knowledge spirit tore down, and I think being alone again made it easier to deny others the power to fuck with me.  It’s easy to be strong when you just assume that everyone, and everything, is out to get you.

“I do,” I agreed, raising a brow.  “A favor that hasn’t been asked yet.”

“I know what she wishes to ask.”

My nails bit into my biceps, my arms were so tightly crossed, and I frowned at the spirit.

“I want a key, man.  Let’s talk about that, yeah?” I said, just barely holding back a snarl. 

“Her favor is the key,” it replied, solemnly.  “You will do as her will bids, when the time comes.  First, you must pledge your loyalty to her.”

“To that old –” I cut myself off before I accidentally insulted Flemeth, nearly biting my tongue as I did so.  “I already gave her my word.  What the hell is this?”

The spirit reached out an arm, form flickering slightly, and held it there.  We were a few feet apart, but if I took a step forward, and reached my arm out too, we would have touched.  And I knew that’s what it was asking.

“Binding contract?” I joked, looking away and scoffing at the absurdity of this whole thing.  “You don’t want me to shake your hand.”

“You must,” it said, standing stone-still.  “If you wish to leave, you will give your _unwavering_ word.”

“I’ll _kill_ you,” I told it, stressing my words in a way that it couldn’t be misconstrued as a threat.  “You don’t get it.”

“I have been made aware of your peculiarities,” the spirit said slowly.  “For a friend’s wish, I will happily pass on and start anew.  That is, if you prove to be as strong as suspected.”

I let my arms fall, fingers twitching at my sides as I resisted the urge to curl them into fists.  “You guys have to make everything complicated, don’t you?”

“What confuses you now, will all be made clear in the future,” it replied simply.  “Of that, you needn’t worry.”

“I’m gonna worry, thanks,” I spat, my shoulders hunching on their own.  “You want me to kill you, and you think that won’t make me suspicious as fuck?”

“You explain jack-shit, and expect me to just walk right into some – some trap?” I continued, finally giving into the urge to fold my hands into fists. 

“You feel comfortable here, do you not?” the spirit asked, right out of left field.  I was left sputtering as it went on.  “You feel strong, yes?  Not at all weak, or faint, as you were so used to.  Have you not wondered after the cause of such a change in your constitution?”

When I didn’t say anything, it continued.  “Magic flows well in this place, far better than the place you most recently left.  Interesting, is it not?  That you should feel more at home –”

“What’re you sayin’?” I asked, voice coming out rougher than I’d intended.  I shifted feet, not moving backwards or forwards; just moving.

The spirit looked back at me with wise eyes, somehow looking less bland in that instance we shared; just staring at each other.

“I think you have the proper suspicions,” it said after a few beats of silence, and it may have been right.  “I have nothing more to say.  If you are to be worthy of this gift, you will pledge to me your true and loyal intent.”

“That’s a lot to ask,” I huffed out, though I did take a small step forward. 

“It is not more than you are asking in return,” the spirit countered.  “It takes no small amount of power to connect this world to the physical one you call home.”

Its words felt damning, and I found myself hating the way it said ‘home’, even though there wasn’t anything special about it.

I was damned, because it would know I was lying.  I wasn’t, and didn’t want to be, completely and utterly loyal to some old hag I met in hell.  But, that was common sense, right?  She couldn’t ask me to sign my soul over to her just because she stopped a spirit from playing make-believe in my head.  Flemeth couldn’t expect me to be all gung-ho about this shit after a five minute meet and greet.

“I wish to amend my words.  I have something else to say, which I have been wondering for a while now,” the spirit announced, making me jump a little from how deep in thought I had been.  “If you would not mind my sharing it.”

I gave one short, surprised nod, and the spirit took off. 

“Your world carried a different magic,” it told me, face inscrutable.  “A world where there exists no veil, where magic was never sealed away by forced hands.”

“Neither spirits nor demons lay claim to the place you were born, and magic did not flow into the beings of your world, as is so in this one.  Or, conversely, magic does flow within you, but not in the way it does in this world,” the spirit continued, speaking faster, as if excited.  “In essence, your magic remained untarnished by mortal and immortal hands.  It was simply in the air you breathed, and in the earth at your feet.  It did not exist to defend or to fight – it existed simply _to be_.”

“And yet, in this world, it gives you strength beyond imagine,” it said, and I definitely heard the wonder in its otherwise bland voice.  “The kinship between both magics, for you carry that foreign magic with you even now, I…I believe one cancels out the other, submitting to the strongest, which in this case means – the magic of this world submits to _you_.”

“Shit,” I said unintentionally, rolling my eyes to the back of my head as I tried not to yell.  It was hard to wrap my head around the idea that magic, even if it wasn’t the kind people normally think of, actually existed in my world.  I was certain the spirit was telling me that magic was a nature thing back home, rather than something that can be manipulated like it is in Thedas, but suddenly I was thinking about druids and witches and wondering if people really could turn others into frogs.

The spirit was speaking with earnest; there was enough emotion in its voice to make me listen and listen closely, but the problem was that I didn’t want to think about all that stuff.  None of it really mattered right now.  I just wanted to go _home_.

“Yo, that’s some cool shit,” I said, physically shaking away the conflicting thoughts in my head, “but, if I don’t get out of here right now, I’ma have an existential crisis.”

“By all means,” the spirit said, and I squinted suspiciously, because it sounded almost amused, “If your words mean that you agree to our terms, you may be on your way.”

I wasn’t really thinking when I reached out my arm, and I had almost taken hold of its hand, when I realized something.

“Wait,” I blurted out, my hand mere inches from its own.  “How did you know all that – all that stuff about where I’m from?  You spoke like…like you’d been there.”

Now that we were closer, I noticed the smallest hint of emotion in the spirit’s eyes, and I got the sense that it was smirking, even though its mouth remained in a flat line.

“Your world is wholly uninhabitable for my kind,” it said, solemnly.  “I was merely sharing my own speculations, gathered by what I have seen in you, as well as in stories much like yours.  Now, do we have your word?”

“I…wha – yeah,” I breathed, my mind being unhelpfully slow.  Once again, I didn’t think much about it as I met the spirit half way, taking its fabricated hand in my grasp, and holding it.

“When you get there, there is something you must say,” the spirit told me, voice already sounding far away.  “Take care to remember it.”  It uttered a phrase, that I repeated over and over in my head until I was certain I had it memorized, and I was so busy worrying about remembering those words, I didn’t even stop to think about _why_ I needed them.

Not once did the spirit attempt to pull away, nor did it scream like the others had whenever my skin touched theirs, but it did smile, and I got the sense that it would have said something, whispered some last words or whatever, if only it had more time.

I didn’t let go, and neither did the spirit, and it died holding my hand, phasing out from my sight with little more than a sound very akin to a gust of wind.

When my hand was freed, I looked down at it, half-expecting to see a mark of some sort, but nothing had changed.  My hand was just as dirty as it had been before.

As the Eluvian began to glow, I wondered faintly if Flemeth was watching.

~

“Daisy is probably in the Arbor Wilds by now,” Varric commented one evening after a full day of travelling.  “Might even be in a fight as we speak.”

The group had taken shelter best they could, which was made easier by the fact that they were no longer amidst the treacherous terrain of the Frostbacks, and the night was made even better by the bright fire and mild weather. 

“I thought she was accompanying the Inquisitor?” Anders said, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.  “Wouldn’t that mean _less_ fighting?”

Varric snorted.  “That woman attracts more trouble than any of you, and I believe she brought the Seeker along for the ride.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve managed to find five bears to fight so far.”

“Yes, Varric,” Isabela said snidely, giving him an evil look.  “Please, make me think of bears attacking my dear, sweet Merrill.  That’s just how I wished to end my day.”

“Oh, come on, Rivaini,” Varric said with an easy grin.  “It’s not _Daisy_ we gotta worry about, but the poor sap who tries to fight her.  They don’t stand a chance.  Not even a bear.”

Isabela sniffed, turning her head away dramatically while also warming her hands by the fire.  “Well, that _is_ very true.”

“All of this, for a single Eluvian that may or may not work?” Anders questioned, dubiously.  “Seems rather impractical if you ask me.”

Hawke popped his head out from one of the tents where he had been lying down, and joined in with, “It’s not like Merrill’s Eluvian.  They believe this one is powerful, and completely intact.  It could lead straight into the Fade, Merrill said.”  Hawke left the tent, sitting down next to Fenris with small thump as he got comfortable.

The others exchanged glances, and it was Varric who spoke next.

“It _might_ lead into the Fade.  She said ‘might’,” he reminded Hawke, who simply shrugged, and rather than fight him, Varric turned back to safer waters.  “I know you weren’t there for the whole Corypheus thing, Blondie, so believe me when I say that keeping this mirror from him is the best thing for us all.  I’ll leave it at that.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Anders replied, tiredly.  “I suppose I should worry more about reaching Adamant right now.  You did say that all of the wardens left, right?”

“If they’re not, sweetness,” Isabela said, sending the mage a sly look, “we’ll find you a good hood and a dress, they’ll never suspect a thing.”

“You know I can’t hide like that.  It wouldn’t work,” Anders muttered, rolling his eyes as Isabela laughed at her own words. 

“They’re gone,” Hawke said, his fists clenched on top of his lap.  “Better be.”

“We might run into some Inquisition soldiers though,” he continued, after taking a deep breath.  “Bull and his guys were still gone when we left Skyhold.”

“We’ll just miss them,” Varric informed the group, calling on a bit of information that had been making its rounds on the day they’d left Skyhold, which was a few weeks ago.  “They’re supposed to be leaving a few days from now, and that’s according to the spymaster’s reports.  Place will be in pieces when we arrive.”

Hawke shifted, face dark, but refrained from saying anything, though everyone could see it was a very close thing.  Surprisingly, it was Fenris who decided to change the subject.

“Mind refreshing our memories, dwarf?  How did you, of all people, come to join the Inquisition?  And become a trusted member, no less.”

Varric squinted at the man from across the fire, unable to mistake the mockery in the other’s tone.

“Well, Broody, as I’m sure you’re not surprised, I happen to be a very well known, and respected, individual and –”  The subsequent story, lively and different from the last time it had been told, served to restore the calm that had been disrupted with the mention of grey wardens and Adamant.  Still, it was clear the Hawke remained on edge, more so than usual.

When he walked off a short while later, as Varric was in the middle of extolling the benefits of being one of the Inquisitor’s closest friends, it was Isabela who stood to follow him. 

Normally, when Hawke made himself scarce in Skyhold, the others let him, thinking he needed time to himself.  He needed the space to grieve in private, without useless words grating on his every nerve.  But, seeing as that had gone on for quite a few months now, it was time to give a little less space, and a little more company.

Isabela found him only a few feet from camp, leaning with his back against a tree and his eyes closed.

“I suppose this is not as sad as I thought it’d be,” she drawled, sauntering up to the man and joining him.  “If you had been staring up at the sky with tears in your eyes, I would have hit you.”

“Much appreciated, Isabela,” Hawke replied, dryly.  “I would have been singing to the trees about lost love, but I couldn’t be arsed to do so.”

Isabela barked out a surprised laugh, and hit her friend on the arm with a little more enthusiasm than necessary.  “Oh my, and here I thought you’d lost the capacity to tell a joke.”

Hawke rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything, making Isabela nudge him once more, with her elbow this time. 

“But, in all seriousness, when are you going to stop being a tit and put an end to the devastated widow act?”

“Perhaps when I have him back,” Hawke replied, giving Isabela a rather reproachful look.  “I’m sorry, does my sorrow annoy you?”

Isabela just stared back with an unimpressed expression on her face.  “When it makes you an inconsolable sack, then yes.  It does.”

“Nobody wants to say it, but I think it’s time, and I’ll gladly be the person to give you a kick in the ass,” she continued, as harsh as possible.  “I get that you’re grieving, and by all means, _grieve_.  But, once you start letting it rule you, nothing good will come of it.”

“I don’t think I’m that bad,” Hawke interrupted with a small snort, looking away from the woman at his side.  “My head is clear.”

“Good,” Isabela said, smiling with her teeth.  “This is just a warning, then.  Whatever happens at Adamant, you _will_ still be the same man as before.  You’re strong enough to know when to move on.”

“Just say it,” Hawke bit out, turning to face Isabela head-on.  “You were being so blessedly blunt just now.”

“If we cannot make contact with Fitz at Adamant, you _will not_ fall apart,” Isabela all but ordered, crossing her arms and raising her head a little so that she could look down her nose at the man before her.  “You will be sad, and then you will move on and we will think of something else.”

Hawke sucked in a breath, and exhaled with a humorless huff of laughter.  “I can’t believe you just said that.”  When he looked at her next, it was to glare, not with anger but with something even more pigheaded.

“What’s next – are you going to tell me Fitz is gone forever, too?” he asked, obstinately.  “You can tell me if that’s what you believe.  I can handle it.”

“That is _not_ what I believe, and _that’s_ ,” Isabela interjected her words with a forceful poke of her index finger to Hawke’s chest, “just what I was talking about.  You are very quick to anger these days, which while I cannot fault you for it too much, you do need to _calm down_.”

“We’re on your side, as always,” Isabela said, with a joking roll of her eyes.  “But, I do not wish to see you hurt yourself needlessly.  You must prepare yourself for whatever it is that Anders finds at Adamant, and you had better do it right, or I’ll kick your ass.  Is that fair?”

Hawke laughed, for real this time, and meant it when he promised that he would walk into Adamant, ready to face anything, good or bad. 

There was still Merrill and her Eluvian, and those other Inquisition members and their own studies on Fitz’ predicament.  Hawke’s gut twisted at the thought, but if they failed to make contact with Fitz through their Dalish-approved dreamer ritual, they would just have to try again and again until he is back where he belongs. 

Hawke could see the hesitance in the others’ eyes, the aborted words and the side-long glances, and he knew that the longer it went without any direction, without any idea on how to proceed, the more hopeless it all becomes; as had been the feeling when they were still stuck at Skyhold, twiddling their thumbs. 

The more time goes on, the more that hope leaves them, until all that is left is a dark resignation that nothing they did was ever enough.

~

Going through an Eluvian was weird, and I mean weird in a ‘this is fucked up, I think I’m gonna puke’ kind of way.  

So, needless to say, when I finally passed through it, I was feeling all kinds of fucked up.  It was like the thing took all my strength away, because when I stepped out (of a goddamn mirror, for Christ’s sake, I couldn’t believe it), I fell to my knees immediately. 

It was kind of agonizing, the pressure surrounding me, making my insides feel like they were being squeezed and squeezed and –

I was gasping, for air or for what, I don’t know.  And, there were tears, and then there were voices too, speaking words that I couldn’t understand.

I tried to sit up, struggling, but it wasn’t until someone tried to help me that I actually got anything done. 

I jerked away from them, spitting out something that only vaguely resembled ‘ _don’t touch me_ ’, and then I was sitting, crouched but ready to spring up at any time (or, at least, that’s what I liked to tell myself). 

When I looked around, I was dazed to see at least half a dozen elves, decked out in full-on armor, surrounding me.  They didn’t seem too happy to see me, and they all had swords out; they looked ready to jump me right then and there, which, as far as first impressions go, was always a major turn-off.

“You will tell –”

She told me to say something, those words that weren’t in English - or, rather, the spirit told me to say them.  It was the same difference, really, because it’s not like I had believed for one second that the spirit guarding the Eluvian wasn’t just a pawn to the old hag.  But, that didn’t matter right now.  I needed to say something before one of those elves decided to go all stabby-stabby on my vulnerable self.

“Mythal,” I panted out, stopping the elf with just one word, “Mythal sul’ema ash enaste.”

“She told me,” I said, unable to keep myself up any longer.  I fell back, not quite catching myself in time to save my elbows from the brunt of falling onto hard ground, and this time, I didn’t even try to pick myself back up. “She told me to say that.”

Satisfied that I got all that out, that I got _anything_ coherent out, I finally let my eyes close and then, I allowed myself to just let go.

~

There was no warning, none at all, when a young man fell through the Eluvian, alerting every guardian of the Temple with his presence as he quite literally _fell_ onto the ground before the ancient mirror. 

“What is this?” a sentinel whispered, eyes set on Abelas after a moment of silent staring at the rasping figure, who showed no sign of noticing that he had company.  Abelas shook his head once, walking around the Well in order to stand before the man properly.  He gestured for his fellow guardians to be at the ready, though he could hardly believe that this was happening at all.

That Eluvian had been closed since the murder of their chosen god, since the fall of the Evunaris, and nothing should have been able to open it.  Only Mythal herself held the power to –

The man cut Abelas off before he could demand an explanation, and with those words, an awed hush fell upon the entire clearing, as the implications sunk in and wonder replaced suspicion.

“Mythal sul’ema ash enaste,” the intruder had said, tongue stumbling on the words in what was clearly his first time speaking them.  He stared up with wide, unfocused eyes, and though he was looking straight at Abelas, he wasn’t really seeing the other man.

“She told me to say that,” the man said, falling backwards as the struggle to stay awake left him.  Then, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he said nothing else, leaving Abelas and the others to silently make the realization that there was only one ‘she’ who could have possibly helped this unknown man enter this sacred place.

“Abelas,” one of his guards stepped up beside him, staring at the intruder’s sleeping face with astonishment.  “You know what this means –”

“I do,” Abelas said, solemnly.

“Then, we must bring him to –”

“No one touches him,” Abelas ordered, turning his head to stare at the guard with a frown heavy on his face.  He turned his eyes to all of the other sentinels as well, making certain that each of them felt the weight of his authority with every look.

“We leave him here, as he would wish it,” he continued, referring to the urgency in the man’s voice when Abelas had first tried to touch him, “and, when he wakes, we will speak.  Until then, we will wait patiently, as is expected of us.”

The others nodded, and Abelas bid that all sentinels be awakened and informed of this new development, ordering them to take up their posts should anything happen.  Now, more than ever, it was time to guard the temple and its odd newcomer; who was really less of an intruder, and more of an honored guest.

He who has been given Mythal’s favor, the favor of a god once believed to be dead, found the temple from its inside.  He had not appeared at its gates, but from within, and there were no other explanations to be had, except that the man’s appearance was made through the action of a higher hand. 

A feeling that Abelas had not experienced in centuries trickled into his conscious, a feeling very akin to impatience, as he waited for the man to awaken, standing guard just a few paces away, shrouded by the shadows of the temple walls and the vegetation that hung from them. 

If his hope was well-founded, there might be much to learn from this man, though it was apparent that he was not true elvhen.  He looked to be but a child, in the eyes of someone so old, and he did not look to be particularly strong, but Mythal had sent him for a reason. 

He was the first sign Mythal had sent to her faithful followers in ages, for once disrupting the belief they had come to accept; that their god was truly gone forever, for no essence of her survival had been shown to them in the centuries following her murder at the hands of her fellows.

Abelas did not know exactly what this meant as of yet, but if he did know anything, it was that all would be clear eventually.  He would have to wait until the knowledge presented itself to him, until Mythal’s meaning could be fully realized.

So, even when more intruders did come, Abelas still waited for the man to awaken, though it was with a little less patience than his capabilities typically allowed.

~

I woke with my neck bent at an awkward angle, aches and pains pulsing throughout my body in a faint, unpleasant sort of way, and the uncanny feeling that I was being watched.

I didn’t immediately open my eyes, but it didn’t seem to matter.  Whoever had _their_ eyes on me noticed I was awake from the get-go, and next I knew, they were standing over me and speaking as if I had already greeted them.

“Do you require help?”

I opened one eye, and then the other, slowly getting myself used to the light, and then I squinted up at the man speaking to me.

“That depends,” I said slowly, carefully rolling my head back and forth in an attempt to ease the pain in my neck.  “Who’re you?”

“My name is Abelas,” he told me, and he even reached out an arm for me to grab.  I ignored it, and picked myself up on my own.  When I was standing, we were just about eye-level, but that wasn’t a huge comfort when I factored in the armor he wore, and the rather impressive weapons on his back.  I supposed it was a good sign that he still had them sheathed.

“Do you remember how you came to this place?” he asked, watching me carefully as I took several steps back.  I looked around us, at the old stone walls that were covered with overgrown greenery and the pool of water that lay only a few feet away from where I awoke.  I almost forgot to answer him.

“That thing, right?” I said, gesturing at the Eluvian from over my shoulder, refusing to actually look at the thing.  I wanted to get away from it, and I certainly didn’t want to _think_ about it. 

I started walking around the water’s edges, noticing as the elf copied my movements, though he followed the opposite side of the large pool.  “Where’s this place?  Am I – uh, this is – I mean, this _is_ Thedas?  Right?”

The elf remained silent for just a second too long, which only made the paranoia in my head mount, but he did answer me.

“This is called the Vir’abelasan,” he told me, waving a hand at the pool we were walking around.

“And this,” he gestured outwards, towards the broken down stone walls, which dipped down so low in some places, that I could look over them and see off into the distance and in that distance, I saw more stone walls, rising to various heights and with windows spaced out generously amongst them. We were high up, but still enclosed by large cliffs that were engulfed in vegetation as well as by huge trees whose branches seemed to go on forever.  “This is the Temple of Mythal.”

The trees that hung over the enclosing we currently stood in offered a decent amount of shade and the rocks that gutted out on either side served to further block out the sun, while also giving the clearing a rather cozy feel to it.  And those boulders went up high, too.  Between that and the trees, the sunlight that actually filtered through had more of a spotlight effect than anything else.  I was grateful for the minimal amounts of light though; it was easier on my eyes.

From far off, there came a loud noise, and I jumped, almost stumbling.  I stopped walking, looking for where the noise had come from, because it didn’t sound like anything normal, but more like a _boom_ , and that shit was never good.

“The fuck was that?” I asked, tripping over my words slightly.  “That sounded like a –”

A second boom, and then I was running for the stone walls, looking for the source.  Abelas followed me, at a much slower pace.

“We have found intruders at our gates,” he told me, calmly.  “They will not be here for much longer.”

“Well, shit,” I said, jerking my head towards some smoke in the distance.  “I think they’re setting your castle on fire.”

“This is a temple,” Abelas said sternly.  “It is not a castle.”

I gave him a weird look, but decided not to fight him on it.  It didn’t matter. 

“Okay, but…”

“We must speak,” he said, changing gears suddenly, and I raised my eyebrows at his serious tone.  “And you must sit down.”

“Why?” I asked curtly, but then he nodded his head at me, and when I looked down, I finally noticed I was shaking.  Then, just like that, I found myself feeling the pure effort it was taking me just to stand.  I acquiesced to Abelas’ suggestion, though he had said as an order, and sat myself on the grass, leaning my back against the stone I had only just been pressing my stomach against.

“Okay, hit me,” I told him, looking up at the elf before narrowing my eyes.  “But, first, you gotta sit down too.  Or go over there,” I waved a hand, “I don’t like you hovering over me like that.”

Abelas inclined his head, and backed away with measured steps.  He didn’t stop until he was a good distance away, and I let myself relax a just a tiny bit more. 

I didn’t know what to make of this whole situation.  No clue.  Because, basically it goes like: I wake up, after passing through a magical mirror, and some elven warrior is watching me like some goddamn taciturn babysitter, and they also got some trigger-happy intruders having at it with their temple, but apparently that’s not a big deal or whatever. 

I didn’t like it.

“Do you remember what you said to me when you first walked through that Eluvian?”

“Yes,” I told him, slowly drawing my answer out as I thought back, remembering the words clearly for some reason, though I refrained from saying that I hadn’t realized it was _him_ I was saying them to.  “Mythal sul’ema ash enaste.  I was told to say that when I got here.  So I did.” 

I sounded defensive, but Abelas’ face didn’t change at all.  I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Do you know what those words mean?” he asked, voice lilting a bit like he already knew the answer.

“Why don’t you just tell me?” I replied, looking at him with my best unimpressed face.

“Mythal sul’ema ash enaste,” he reiterated, and I almost rolled my eyes as he emphasized the pronunciations.  “Mythal gives me her favor.  It is not a coincidence, I assume, that your arrival preludes the worst assault on our walls since the war of the gods.”

“You sayin’ it’s _my_ fault you got people blowin’ up your castle?”  I brought a hand up to rest on my chest, widening my eyes as though Abelas had just accused me of something absolutely horrendous, which I guess he sort of did. 

It probably wasn’t the best time to be a smartass, but it was kind of a defensive mechanism at this point.

“It’s –” Abelas stopped himself when another boom was heard, and it still sounded like it was coming from pretty far away, but he looked towards it anyway.  I watched him impassively, only straightening up when he turned back to me, face even more solemn than before.  “You misunderstand me.”

He took another few steps away from me, pacing with his hands behind his back, and continued, “Mythal sent you to us, showing herself for the first time since her death, and then intruders come to defile this place.  I was merely noting the connection.”

“Connection?” I repeated, scoffing.  “I’ve been in the Fade for the past – god knows how long…I couldn’t exactly plan an attack from in there.”  I jerked my head towards the Eluvian, still refusing to properly look at it.  It was bad enough I could still feel it, as if it were _alive_ , and it gave me the jeebies pretty badly, to be quite honest.  “And, why the hell would I bust in here, _weaponless_?  ‘Cuz, hello,” I waved my hands at myself, gesturing towards the very sad reality that I had absolutely nothing but a tunic that had been through absolute hell and some trousers that were nearly just as bad.  I couldn’t remember shedding my armor, the rather heavy chestplate and gear I had worn to Adamant, but I suspected it’d happened a long time ago.  Maybe when I was still fighting the Nightmare, or when the knowledge spirit was playing make-believe with me.  I didn’t even have my boots anymore.

“I’m not exactly prepared for a fight, ya know?” I finished, feeling a bit pathetic. 

“It was not my intention to accuse you of aiding our enemies,” Abelas said, turning towards me with his hands still clasped behind his back.  “You were sent by Mythal.  She would not have given you her approval if you were part of the group attempting to corrupt her sacred temple.”

“You keep saying that,” I said, a bit too harshly as I struggled to understand him.  “Mythal’s dead, and she’s been dead for, like, ever.  That’s what the lore says.”  I couldn’t remember reading much about her, or any of the elven deities, but from what I had read, Mythal was dead way before the fall of the elves or whatever, and that’s just what the stories say.  I didn’t believe in gods back home, and I didn’t really believe in them here either, so to have some guy spouting such nonsense at me, I was a little miffed. 

For a brief moment, I realized this must be how Amrita felt every time someone called her the Herald, but that thought was gone just as quickly once Abelas started speaking.

“And yet, she is the only being powerful enough to open that Eluvian,” Abelas said, not even sounding annoyed with me.  He just sounded stern, which I was beginning to think was his default setting or whatever.  “Everything that exists in this place, exists to honor her.  I remain here, the last of my kind, and I guard this temple and the Vir’abelasan from those who seek to despoil it.  You do not think I believed my god to be dead, after centuries of silence?”  Abelas’ voice turned rougher as he spoke that last bit, and I got the sense that he was actually more ruffled than his grim appearance foretold. 

“There is no being in this world that could have allowed you passage to this temple,” he continued.  His tone was back to its normal shade of gloomy seriousness, and he actually began to approach me, eyes glued to my own.  “By the grace of Mythal, you are chosen.”

I swallowed roughly, and forced myself back onto my feet, though I didn’t really feel up to it yet.

“Now you sound creepy,” I told him, squinting.  “So, you gotta back door to this place or somethin’?  I can be outta here in twenty seconds flat –”

“No,” Abelas said harshly, turning away from me as though his attention had been called for.  I noticed a figure hesitating in the shadows to my left, and I almost jumped.  Abelas didn’t say anything else to me, and I wasn’t even certain if that ‘no’ had been directed at me in the first place, and then he was walking away, heading for the lurking elf with hasty strides.

They spoke to each other in a language I didn’t understand, I knew it could really only be one language.  Amrita and Solas used to speak something similar, but that was only ever a few words or phrases.  This conversation didn’t have an ounce of Common thrown in at all; it was fluent.

Abelas said he had lived here for centuries…

I watched them with wide eyes, continued to do so even when Abelas was heading back my way and the other elf was scurrying back to wherever they’d come from.  More loud sounds off in the distance followed in the wake of their departure, and I couldn’t help but comment on it, desperately trying to distance myself from what felt like a solid realization.

“Dude, someone’s _really_ blowing up your castle,” I said, helpfully pointing towards the large puffs of dust and debris, and the decent amount of clanging and yelling that was only getting closer to us.  “Like, we should probably _leave_.”

“For the last time,” Abelas said through his teeth, “this is not a castle.  It is the Temple of –”

“Bro, chill,” I said, with a snort, leaning my hip against the crumbling stone wall in order to hide the deflated feeling in my legs.  I felt like sitting back down, but I knew I couldn’t.  Not with Abelas standing right next to me, as he was now.  “A word is a word is a word, ‘snot a big deal.”

I raised my eyebrows as high as they go, and glanced over at the fighting.  “But, you know what is a big deal?  Over there.  Where I’m pretty sure your guys are _losing_.  As in, _dying_.”

I tried to get closer, intending to walk around Abelas and towards the little entrance that his friend had left through only moments ago, but Abelas threw an arm out to stop me and I only just stopped short of running into it.

“Jesus, man –” I began to say, annoyed, but he cut me off.

“You need to stay here,” and then he was barking out orders like nobody’s business.

I almost fell back when Abelas had begun shouting, once again in all elven, and then I almost fucking yelled out loud when a handful of people popped out of nowhere, running up to Abelas, their faces hidden by these huge hoods, similar to the one Abelas wore.  Their armor was pretty nice, too, and it was unlike any I’d ever seen, and that was including Dalish.  Something told me they wouldn’t be impressed with that thought, should I have cared to share it with them.  I got this sort of elven-superiority thing coming from them, and it wasn’t the Dalish kind.  It was more like Solas’ patented ‘anti-Dalish’ kind. 

I’m just saying that Abelas and his little gang seemed like antisocial old people who would rather throw rocks at children than let them wander onto their lawn.  And Abelas had a really good stern face, which is where the Solas thought mostly came from.  Mostly.

“The fuck,” I hissed instead, half-wanting to reach out and elbow Abelas in the gut (which I didn’t do for obvious reasons).  “Where the hell –”

Abelas let out a stream of words, and I still didn’t understand a single one.  They seemed to be orders though, because then almost all of the surprise-elves were hurrying away.  The single remaining elf stayed where they were, standing stiffly a few feet away from me, and then Abelas finally deigned to address me.

“Our enemies are stronger than we thought,” he told me, fixing me with a solid stare.  “I will need to leave in a matter of moments, but first I must tell you why you are here.  Why I believe Mythal sent you to us.”

Abelas’ eyes were so stern; I couldn’t even think about looking away.  I must’ve been looking at him with such a dumb look on my face, but I just couldn’t help it.  Everything felt so overwhelming, and this siege was beginning to remind me of worse things, things I couldn’t block out, and it all felt so real, but also _unreal_ , all at the same time. 

I was also beginning to wonder what trick this was, what the hell was going to happen to me, and I couldn’t help but worry that this place was going to end up being worse than the one I’d only just escaped from.  If I really had escaped.

“The Vir’abelasan,” Abelas said abruptly, eyes still on me even when I turned a little to look at the innocent pool of water that lay near us.  “You would call it the Well of Sorrows.  It holds all of the knowledge passed down by the priests of this temple, and by all of those who devote themselves to Mythal.”

“Our intruders will see it defiled, its knowledge used to fulfill the greed of shemlen.  Our legacy, all of our history, will be lost forever,” he continued, a hint of urgency in his voice keeping me from interrupting.  “They will not have it, for none of them are worthy.  None of them were chosen by Mythal to possess this right.”

“But, you were,” he ended, words coming out with such force that I found myself fully speechless, rather than simply holding back.  “I can see no other reason why Mythal chose to save you, no other reason for why she chose to send you to us.  The Well is yours, for it is by the will of Mythal that you even live, and it is to her will that you are forever bound.”

With one last shout, aimed at the elf still standing silently by my side, Abelas left us, striding purposely towards the heavy sound of fighting, which had only been getting louder and louder during Abelas’ speech.

“What the,” I breathed out, running a hand through my hair and watching Abelas storm away like a madman, “Fuck.”

~

“Come on, man.  Please.”

The armored elf just stared at me, like they had been for the past however many minutes I’d been trying to wheedle some sort of information out of them.  Like, information on a way out of this fucking place.  The elf refused to so much as speak to me, preferring to just stare or, at least, I assumed they were staring.  They had a hood covering most of their stupid face.  I couldn’t even tell if I was getting on their nerves or not.

“Ugh.”

I turned away, in frustration as well as resignation, and stomped over to the entrance, waving a hand at the elf when I heard their hurried steps following me.  “I’m not leavin’, dude.  There’s no fucking steps.  Jesus.”

I looked down, staring at the pathway that would have led me to the rest of the temple if there had been a staircase for me to use.  I blinked a few times, wondering how in the hell Abelas and the others had gotten down, before simply tossing it from my mind.  I focused, instead, on the lower levels that I could see from our higher vantage point. 

The place was massive, rising up high in certain points and then way down low in others; the whole place had been built on top of boulders and cliffs, making it so that it looked like a sprawling mass of ruins.  It was sort of like how I’d imagine seeing Inca ruins back in my old world, only like on steroids or something.  A mist hung over the lower portions of the temple, and it obscured most of the fighting, but I could tell it was getting closer.  I saw movements, and could hear everything much louder than before.

I turned away, once again, and wandered closer to the pool.  I crouched beside it, with my feet just a few inches from the tiled edge, and folded myself in, resting my chest against my thighs and my chin on top of my knees.  I tried to ignore the deflated feeling my body held, which I could only describe as feeling like jetlag times ten million. 

The water was clear, no sign of debris or anything, and it didn’t look so deep, because I could make out the tiles that lined its floor very clearly.  On a whole, the well was huge and perfectly circular.  And it looked like a plain old pool.  Maybe a rich people pool.

“I’m guessing I can’t just, like, swim in this, huh?” I said, glumly, not expecting an answer whatsoever.  I didn’t get one either, so it was good to keep my expectations low.  “Not fuckin’ drinkin’ it, tell ya that much.”

A particularly loud shout reached us from way down below, making me half-turn on instinct, and I made eye contact with my elven bodyguard.  They didn’t show it, of course, but I wondered if they were worried too.

~

“Please, da’len, you must hide,” the elf said to me, and they sounded so desperate, I even felt a little bad for giving them so much shit earlier.  I think it was the endearment that got to me, even if I wasn’t a kid like it implied.  “I will protect you, but if –”

“Okay, okay,” I said, waving the elf off and heading for the bushes that lay somewhere between the Eluvian and the entrance to our enclosure, “I’m hiding, see?”

My elven body guard left, running right down the entrance as if there really were stairs leading down to the fighting below.  I paused, just about to situate myself into the spot I’d chosen, but figured I really didn’t want to go see for myself. 

As I sat there, leaves and grass poking at my bare feet and at the skin that showed through all the rips and tears of my sad clothing, I wondered how I’d feel if I woke up and all of this was just a dream.

~

When Abelas came back, I waited a beat, watching as he looked around the clearing with wild eyes and when I finally stepped out of my hiding place, I noted how he seemed to calm a little when he saw me. 

“What’s –”

“You need to drink.  _Now_.”  Abelas strode towards me with such purpose in his gait that I felt uneasiness spread throughout my entire body, even though I doubted he would hurt me.  Sort of doubted that he could, to be really honest.

“I don’t gotta do _anything_ ,” I retorted, backing away from him nonetheless, not even flinching as fallen branches cut into my clumsy feet as I walked back into the bushes I'd only just left.  “Tell me what’s happening.”

“The temple is lost,” he spat, glaring out at the fighting that was very, very close now.  When he turned angry eyes on me, I almost seized up.  “You will drink, as is your duty, _as Mythal bids_ , or the loss of my people will be on your shoulders.”

“Fuck you, man,” I spat right back, cursing him before I even really listened to his words.  When the weight of them hit, I faltered.  I _had_ promised a favor…

“This is too soon – I can’t,” I said, turning towards the fighting going on behind us.  My breathing was beginning to come out in quick gasps, it was all too much pressure.  I wasn’t even really sure where I was.  I wasn’t sure of anything, just as I hadn’t been sure of anything back before I even met Flemeth; back before she got me involved in this goddamn Mythal cult.

“You must decide,” Abelas urged, taking another step towards me.  “The enemy is almost upon us, and they intend to –”

There was a screech, like a bird, and then – there was a bird.

A crow flew over the walls, landing right behind me.  Abelas went to shove me away, but I was quicker.  As soon as I had seen the bird flying right for us, I was stumbling to the side, spinning around to face it just as it was transforming.

I wasn’t even sure if it made contact with the ground, or if she changed mid-air, but no sooner had I spun around, there was a full-grown woman standing toe-to-toe with Abelas, who looked ready to throw-down right then and there.

“I told you,” Abelas was already snarling, “The Well is not for the likes of you.”

And then, there were more people, more people yelling and _running up what must be goddamn invisible steps_ , because Abelas was right, the enemy really was upon us and –

“Morrigan!  Wait!”

I froze, and everything came crashing down. 

The familiar crow-lady, the fighting – it was the fucking Inquisition.

I turned around to see Amrita, a handful of others further running after her, and she was running full-pelt at Morrigan and Abelas, panic etched onto her face, and I stumbled back, back into the bushes until I hit the wall and dropped down with all the grace of a bug that had circled a light bulb one too many times, because _what the fuck_.

While I hid out, sitting in some kind of stupid daze and resisting the urge to bang my head against the stupid crumbling stone wall that I’d been eyeing ever since I woke up here, the others fought back and forth with each other.  Solas was spitting at Morrigan, Amrita was trying to be reasonable, and Morrigan apparently just wanted the Well, no matter what.

So, basically; _Morrigan_ wanted the Well. _Corypehus_ wanted the Well.  Everyone and _their goddamn mother_ wanted the fucking Well.

Morrigan was pleading her case with a harshness that seemed hard to fight, and then Abelas was fighting right back, hissing, “You do not listen.  You cannot have the Well, for it is destined to another.”

“Another?”

“Destined?”

“To whom has the Well been given?” Morrigan demanded, speaking over her companions and tossing a hand around in distain, showcasing the clearing that was empty except for the Inquisition and Abelas himself.  “To _you_?”

Abelas made a sound, of disgust maybe, and looked to my hiding spot.  “Mythal has sent us her chosen.  She delivered him to us at the same time as you and your enemy breached our walls.  By Mythal’s hand, he is the only one fit to receive the knowledge that lies within the Well.”

I made a face at the over-posturing, and wished I could just simply _melt_ into the stupid crumbling stone walls instead of bashing my head against them. 

A tinkling laugh, and then, "Is he a bush?  Because, heh, it looks a bit like you're speaking to the leaves, you know."

Merrill.

I almost groaned, wondering what kind of shitshow this was.  Is this for real?  How does the Inquisition just show up, _appear out of nowhere_ , as soon as I get myself out of the Fade?  Is that even smart for me to believe?

I steeled myself, because there seemed no other choice, and when I finally stood back up, showing myself for all to see, it was with narrowed eyes and a scowl on my face.

The stunned silence, I expected.  The subsequent shouting of my name in disbelief, I also expected.  I even prepared myself for the running, the attempted hugging, so when Merrill and Amrita both made as if to come at me, I wasted no time in telling them not to touch me. 

Ignoring the off-guard hurt on their faces, I strode right for Abelas, intending to ignore the other problem for as long as physically possible.  He looked at me with those solemn eyes, and I knew what he was trying to get across with that one look.

“I cannot fail Mythal now, not when she has finally reached out to us,” he told me, inclining his head a little, out of reverence or something like it.  “If you will not do this for her, do it for your friends and to prevent the enemy who follows at their heels from despoiling this sanctum more than they already have.”

Corypheus was coming, and there wasn’t time for me to worry about not having enough time to make a decision.  There wasn’t time to worry at all, apparently.

And, what did I care anyway?  Abelas thought Mythal sent me, but all lore points to her being dead and gone.  So, unless Flemeth was an elven god in disguise, the only thing I knew was that some old witch got me to that Eluvian and some old _hag_ got me tangled up in this mess.  Not a god.

“Okay, so what now?” I asked, with a heavy sigh, “I take a sip, skinny dip in this shit – or what?”

Making a decision under duress is easy, following through when you don’t have any time to back out is even easier.  And if the dark look on Solas' face, and his extremely vocal dissent to this whole thing, said anything, it’s really the as-of-yet-unforeseen consequences that are truly out to get you.

~

I was once again lying on my back, staring at the partially hidden sky when I came down from whatever high the Well had given me.  With that one drink of its water, my mind had gone into absolute overdrive, I fucking _hallucinated_ , and now my head was racing from the experience, with too many whispers saying things in my head for me to properly listen to.  There was the pain, too. 

“Fitz, oh Fitz,” someone was crying, calling out to me from far away.  I struggled to sit up, but then someone else was hauling me up, and they kept me standing when I tried to flop back down again. 

Merrill stood before me with her hands hovering between us, probably itching to just rest each palm on either side of my face, and when I nodded weakly, she surged forward to do just as I expected, only she brought my head down to impart a quick kiss onto the top of my forehead as well.

I was too tired for suspicions and anger.  And, I wholeheartedly thought that in the second we had before I felt a weird hum go up around us, my body physically feeling the Eluvian powering up behind me. 

“Corypheus,” Amrita was shouting, pointing in the opposite direction.  “He’s here!  We have to leave, quickly!”

“Can you walk?” someone asked me, and it was then that I realized it had been Cassandra holding me up.  She tugged on me lightly.  “Fitz, we need to move.  _Now_.”

I shook my head, jerking away from Merrill, who was still hovering, and attempted to free myself of the Seeker’s grip as well.  Amrita was running for the Eluvian, and I _refused_.

“No, no,” I muttered, shaking my head even more.  “Not goin’ – you can’t make me –”

My weak state made it pretty easy for her to swing me over her shoulder into a fireman’s carry, and then she was heading for the Eluvian, Merrill trailing right after her.  I cried out, but my panic didn’t go full-fledge until we were really close, and then I was absolutely flailing.

“Put me down!” I yelled, feeling dizzy.  “I’m not goin’ back there!  Stop it –”  I bucked, but nothing I could do loosened Cassandra’s hold at all.  She just grunted, and quickened her pace, much to my distress.

There was no more time for words, comfort or otherwise.  Roars echoed from behind us, and then we were at the mirror, and then we were all jumping through it. 

I had just enough time, from my forced perch on Cassandra’s shoulder, to look up at the chaos happening behind us.  The Well we had once stood in was illuminated, and there was a figure and it was meeting the red guy, that fucking guy, and then they were clashing; the shimmery figure protecting our escape.  That’s all I knew how to describe it; that the pool thing was protecting us.  And even with Corypheus practically on top of us, I still didn’t want to leave.  It was nice in that little clearing, much nicer than the Fade would –

Cassandra carried me through the mirror, and I didn’t see it, but I felt the buzz of its touch passing over my skin, just like last time, and then we were through and falling, also like last time, and I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, there was no green.  No rocks sat in places they shouldn’t be, and there were no swamps that looked more lethal than normal. 

Instead, there was dust, and wood, and a groaning warrior underneath me, along with a pile of haphazardly strewn bodies lying in various positions around us. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mythal sul'ema ash enaste" directly translates to "Mythal gives me her favor/approval". If this is wrong, pls let me know!
> 
> but, ho boy you guys next chapter is a certain reunion i believe (multiple reunions, if you will), bless each and every one of you for being so patient <3
> 
> thanks for reading/commenting/kudo-ing, I appreciate everything!! ~ if you haven't already read, I've been posting extra scenes in the second part of this series (literally called the Extras), so I'd love if you'd read them too!  
> also if you ever wanna talk or ask me anything about this story or w/e, pls always feel free to hmu on here or on my [tumblr](http://runningforprussia.tumblr.com) which also has a Fitz tag!
> 
> ~~ please check out the WONDERFUL new fanart!! ~~  
> [Karshmallow drew Fitz!](http://karshilicious.tumblr.com/post/145637753688) and [happysnowdragon drew Fitz and the Kirkwall crew!](https://www.dropbox.com/s/a6k136sp7jcqtt7/fitz%20and%20co.png?dl=0)


	54. Act III: I'm A Little Unsteady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick warning for a panic attack in the beginning

“No, no…” I murmured to myself, trying to control my shaking, and failing. 

I rolled off of Cassandra, and then over Amrita, until I met cement ground and not the fleshy bodies that had cushioned my movements.  I pushed myself up, almost falling down twice before I finally made it to my feet. 

It wasn’t a calm endeavor. 

When we landed, and I finally opened my eyes, there was a door, not far from me, and that was all I really focused on.  I didn’t look at the room otherwise, except to notice that it wasn’t a huge space.  Once I had my feet steady beneath me, which took effort, I was off; running for the large wooden door that suddenly seemed farther away than before. 

My breathing was coming in quick gasps, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before it was a struggle just to swallow.  I wanted to be long gone before my panic attack really hit, and I had to be quick, if the yelling behind me meant anything.

I said I didn’t want to go, I told them _not_ to touch me.  I told them _I_ _didn’t want to go through the fucking Eluvian_ and they didn’t listen.  And, now here I was, in some place that had goddamn rooms rather than the wide expanse of space I was used to and they were all so close to me; it sent me reeling.  I _needed_ space, I needed to know where the fuck I was.

It felt like some great big trick; the mirror, the well, my _friends_.  I knew it all went back to that freaking woman, what’s-her-face, and all my doubts came rushing back when I thought of her.  She was definitely fucking with me back there, and I’d bet anything she was getting major kicks out of this one.  Who else ‘saves’ someone by throwing them into some elf cult, which is summarily invaded by my old friends?  Convenient, or just down right freaky? 

I didn’t so much as open the door, as I did body slam it open, but then I was out of there and there was just a little more air, and a little more space.  It was nice, too, for the split second I had before I realized there was an audience.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped out, momentarily put off by the sheer amount of people around me. 

There was a garden, a familiar courtyard that was overflowing not only with various different plants, but various different people as well.  And all of them, every single of those motherfuckers, turned to look at me after I practically kicked a door down in my escape.  After the shock of the place’s population and familiarity, I didn’t exactly have the presence of mind to really dwell on anything except for getting the fuck out of there.  However, there was one aspect of this place that I definitely didn’t miss as I made for the opposite side of the courtyard, to a door that I knew would lead me to safer places.

I was in Skyhold’s garden.  I could smell the elfroot growing in the far corner, I could see the tops of the mountains that protruded slightly over the castle walls, and I was beginning to think that if I took a moment to focus on the people around me, I probably would’ve recognized them too.

“What the fuck,” I whispered, barely able to speak and yet somehow managing.  “Fucking _fuck_.”

I would have made it to the door in record time, mostly due to the fact that anybody in my way pretty much dove out of my path, if not for the fact that Amrita had recovered just as quickly as me, and it was when she pulled on the back of my ripped up shirt, I jumped back, twirling around to face her and finding that she had been barely a step behind me.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” I spat, even though she had already jerked her arm back, her hands held up with the palms facing me.  “How the – where – what the _fuck_.”

“Fitz, we had to escape,” Amrita said quickly, probably sensing a fight on the horizon.  “Corypheus was nearly upon us.  The Eluvian was the only way for us all to escape with our lives intact!”

“Fuck that,” I replied even quicker, not really wanting to hear it.  “I said I didn’t want to.”  I had to stop speaking in order to swallow down the panic I felt, and I succeeded a bit, I’m guessing for necessity’s sake. 

“How do you know we’d land here?  If here _is_ here,” I looked around suspiciously, at the people staring at us, most of them looking aghast and confused.   

The others were only just leaving the room we’d appeared in, looking as dazed and confused as the rest of us.  Only Morrigan seemed unfazed and her strides were fast and determined in such a way that demanded attention as she headed right for where Amrita and I stood in the middle of the wide corridor that wrapped around the entire garden, only a few feet away from the door that I still wanted to run through.  Predictably, Morrigan was the first to meet us and I turned my attention on her at once, because all of hers was similarly trained all on me.

Amrita was still trying to reason with me though, despite my change in focus.

“You don’t have to worry, we are truly back in Skyhold,” she was saying, almost pleading, “When you drank from the Well, it gave you the power to open the Eluvian, remember?  It would not have brought you to a place you did not wish to return to.”

“How do you feel?  Different?” Morrigan interrupted abruptly, having come to a stop at Amrita’s side, eyeing me with what could have been curiosity or disdain, or perhaps a mixture of both.  “You should be hearing voices, and you must heed them if you have any hope in understanding what they are telling you.”

“Oh, I’m hearin’ voices alright,” I shot back, scowling, “and they’re sayin’ you best back the fuck off before I go the fuck off, ya good?”

Morrigan looked almost appalled, but she was saved from having to reply by Amrita’s quick intervention.

“Fitz, please be calm,” she said, soothing her voice into a lower tone than before.  “You’ve been through a lot.  Let’s find you a place to rest, somewhere less crowded…”

I didn’t trust her, I hate to say it, but part of me didn’t really believe we were back here.  If I took the time to focus on the voices whispering in my head as Morrigan told me to, they probably would have assured me that I wasn’t in the Fade, but they were speaking too quietly and I was thinking much too loudly, so it was very easy to tune them out.

“If this is Skyhold, where’s Hawke?  Where’s Varric?” I demanded, taking a step back as I noticed the others had now appeared behind Amrita and Morrigan, acting almost like a buffer between us and part of the audience we had involuntarily gained.  I addressed my words to Merrill, who slid in between Cassandra and Solas, and then past Morrigan, in order to stand before me. 

There were tears in her eyes as she looked at me, but she seemed happy too, as she answered me, “They went looking for you, for a way to contact you.  Oh, Fitz, they are going to be _so_ happy, Hawke is going to –”  Merrill stretched out a hand, and I think she was aiming for a hug, but I stumbled back, shaking my head.

“I need to –”  I didn’t finish.  Instead, I spun around and flat out ran for the door I had been inching towards since the start of this whole conversation.

My wild entrance into the Great Hall was kind of similar to my entering the garden; it came with a bang and a fall. 

As I ran through the door, I had somehow tripped over my own damn feet and ended up getting a face-full of hard stone.  Of course, whatever pain inflicted on me went by completely unnoticed as I was down for barely a second before I was up and running for the big doors directly to my right. 

_Just to the gates,_ I told myself, _the gates lead to the mountains.  There’ll be plenty of air there._

I ignored every yell, face, and thing around me as I flew through the Great Hall, ramming my shoulders into at least five different people on my way past, all of whom shouted at me in French afterwards.  I was still running full-pelt when I made it to the big doors, and didn’t even slow down for the winding steps that led me back down to earth.  From there, I could very clearly see the castle gates; totally free of people and wide open.  I could see the mountains, and masses of white in the distance, and my heart soared, just as the aches in my body became more pronounced.  I almost made it to the second flight of stairs, the ones that would have brought me almost right to the gates, but I faltered, and probably would’ve fallen over again if arms hadn’t suddenly wrapped themselves around me.

I made a weird sound, half-way between a rasp and a groan, and I almost felt sick when I realized I was being held back, unable to move forward.  I really freaked at this, as if I weren’t already bugging out; I kicked my feet up and my head back, desperately trying to worm my way out of the hold that had been placed on me.

“Whoa!” a deep voice grunted from behind me, just as my head bashed into what felt like armor.  “It’s alright, Fitz, I got you.  Listen to me, you’re–”

“Don’t got me, don’t got me,” I said frantically, trying even harder to get away.  “Leggo, leggo!”

“You’re having an attack,” the Iron Bull’s voice registered faintly in my head.  His arms felt like cement drying, with me in it, and my eyes welled up with tears because everything I everything I did was useless; I couldn’t make him budge.  “I don’t know if you can hear me right now, but it’s gonna be alright, yeah?  Whatever just happened, I have a feeling it’s gotta do with your surprise return right now – great entrance, by the way, flying down the stairs like that – so just breath, and I’ll let you go when you’re less likely to hurt yourself.”

I tried elbowing him, and nothing happened, all I did was hurt my stupid elbow.  I could have screamed with frustration; I wasn’t used to being held like this, or at all, because somewhere along the line I guess I just grown accustomed to that being an impossibility.  There had been times when I would wish, bitterly and ironically, for just some kind of touch by another human being, but now I just felt more vulnerable than I’d ever felt in my life, and that’s saying a hell of a lot.

“Fitz, gut me all you want, let it out,” Bull said, sounding reassuring, like he fully understood what I was doing, but that only made me angry, because it was so goddamn condescending.

I knew, deep down, that I had to calm down, and that Bull really wasn’t the bad guy here, but it was _hard_.

I don’t know how long it took for me to run out of steam, but eventually the attack passed, leaving me feeling exhausted and trembling.  Like he promised, Bull loosened his hold on me when he saw that I wasn’t about to lash out anymore, but he still kept a hand on my shoulder to keep me steady, and I didn’t have the energy to push him off yet.

‘Fitz?” he asked, leaning down slightly so that we were more even-footed.  “You hear me, kid?”

I lowered my head, pressing fists into my eyes and just holding them there. 

“Go away.”

“Yeah...not likely,” Bull replied, and when I lifted one fist to peek up at him, I saw he was looking around the courtyard we were awkwardly standing in the middle of.  The tavern and the training yard lay right behind us, and the stairs I’d ran down were directly next to us, and I already knew that so I didn’t try to follow his gaze; I didn’t want to see anything.  “Let’s get you somewhere warmer.  Maybe get you a new shirt, too – but, hey, maybe you like it like that.  I’m not one to judge.”

I finally lowered my hands after giving my eyes one last press, and glared at Bull, attempting to seem more composed than I really was.

“Get the fuck off me,” I spat.  I shrugged my shoulders, gesturing his hand on my shoulder which _I still couldn’t dislodge_ , and went on, “What part of ‘let go’ and ‘go away’ don’t you fucking understand, you –”

“Right,” Bull interrupted, finally withdrawing his hand and half holding it up for me to see.  “That’s a good sign.  You sound back to normal.”

As soon as I was free, I took a few hasty steps backwards, and I had to brutally push down the relief I felt when Bull didn’t make any move to follow me.

“But, seriously, Fitz.  You’ve gotta be freezing,” he said, coaxingly.  He copied me in backing away, and I could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible; it was weird.  “And tired.  Let’s go inside and find Josephine…or someone who knows what to do with you.”  He muttered the last bit, but I still heard him clearly as he continued to say under his breath, “Back for one fucking day and this shit happens…”

I had been facing Bull, with my back to the staircase, so I didn’t see them sneak up on me.  Bull didn’t give any clues either, he didn’t even look surprised to see all of them; he kept his eyes locked on mine the entire time.  But, I was sensitive to the presence of others at moment, so it’s not like I could just _not_ notice people coming up behind me. 

I nearly flung myself to the side so that I could whirl around without showing Bull my back, and my gut reaction was to hiss, though I did also have the more normal reaction of narrowing my eyes at the people approaching us.

“Back off,” I immediately yelled, as I proceeded to back away from them all.  I ignored Amrita’s open palms and the cautious looks they all wore; I didn’t have the patience for it.  I needed _space_.  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you assholes, what’s a guy gotta do for some goddamn personal space around here?”

“Fitz, lethallin,” Merrill began, voice a bit wobbly, as she came to stop on the last step of the staircase next to Bull and me.  She didn’t move closer any closer than that, probably because of my last reaction to being approached by her (and the words I had literally just said).  “I just need to know you’re alright, that you aren’t trying to do something drastic like –” she took a breath, and started over, “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed right now, lethallin, but please, at least tell me you are not hurt.”

She had tears in her eyes that I couldn’t just ignore and her voice was so soft, and it had been so long since I had even heard it, or _seen her_ , and for a moment, I almost felt like we were back in Kirkwall, in that little home of hers in the alienage.  I kind of wished we were, at least then everyone else would have been there and Hawke would have…

And just like that, I lost edge I’d been throwing around, and when I spoke, my voice was almost just as wobbly as Merrill’s.

“Mer –” One small movement, a twitch of my arms, and Merrill rushed to meet me, throwing her arms around my shoulders and hugging me close, and I returned it this time, my hands clutching at the fabric of her tunic just as tightly as she held onto me.

“Is this real?” I asked, voice coming out horrible and watery, but I just couldn’t help it; if I was going to stop pretending to be tough, I might as well say what’s really on my mind.  I _really_ wanted it to be real.

Merrill placed a palm against my temple, moving her head slightly so that she could look up at me and meet my eyes, and then she said, “Oh, Fitz, it is.  It really is.  You’ve finally come home to us.”

She surged forward again, voice breaking with emotion that a spirit never had, and she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, and I could feel her tears against my skin as clearly as I could smell the faint scent of daisies coming from her hair. 

I rested my cheek on the top of her head, closing my eyes at the softness as the scent of daisies grew more fragrant.  As we held each other, it was easier than before to forget about my surrounding; I didn’t think about Bull or Amrita and, for a moment, I couldn’t hear any of the whispers in my head at all.

~

“Well, we won’t find a demon around here, that’s for sure,” Anders commented, looking out and over the landscape with grim eyes.

The Bull’s Chargers had done well in scrapping the place up; there was no way for anybody to reclaim the fortress, demon or not.  All that was left were piles upon piles of rubble, and even the last of the Inquisition’s soldiers had already moved out.  The place was deserted.

“Hope you weren’t actually hoping to catch that Qunari fellow,” Isabela said dryly, kicking at a few rocks and watching them sail through the air.  “I believe we have the place completely to ourselves.” Standing by her side, Hawke nodded.

“Might as well set camp right here,” Hawke surmised, gesturing towards a small patch of land that was relatively clear of rock piles.  If he had to guess, they were stood right at the heart of the once-fortress, which didn’t actually matter all that much in the long run.  They could have set up camp on the outskirts of the destruction; it was all the same with what they were set to do.

“Tonight then?” Varric questioned, directing a quick glance at Anders as if to check for agreement.  The mage nodded, expression impassive.  He was still slightly apprehensive about this whole endeavor, though he was still on board.  Instead of saying anything, Anders just joined Hawke in pitching up the tents and clearing away some of the rubble so that their makeshift camp could at least be somewhat comfortable. 

He waited until it was almost nightfall before finally voicing some of his concerns.

~

“You know,” Anders began, his eyes trained on the bowls in front of him, “Justice and I don’t speak so much anymore.  He’s…quieter.”

Hawke paused in preparing dinner, mid-stir, and asked, “Is that good?”

Anders shrugged, glancing at his friend briefly.  “I think he’s tired.  I feel more like myself than I have in many years.”

Hawke met his gaze.  “Then that _is_ good.”  He returned to stirring the pot of stew, half hoping that the conversation could be left at that.

Anders sighed.  “Hawke, what I mean is…I can’t promise Justice will be able to seek out Fitz – whether he can sense him or not – I don’t want you to get –”

“My hopes up?” Hawke finished for him, smiling wryly at his friend.  “Isabela and I already had this talk.” 

“If this endeavor fails, we’ll find another way,” he continued, once again turning back to watch the stew simmer before him.

“What makes you so certain?” Anders asked quickly, and with curiosity.  “Physically walking the Fade is nearly unheard of, and the tales about those who have done it…well, it’s not as though they came out unscathed.”

“Fitz has been in there for _months_ , Hawke,” Anders continued, feeling a bit urgent to get his thoughts out, encouraged by the calm, thoughtful composure his friend maintained, even in the face of words he definitely did not want to hear.  “How does one survive that?”

“Fitz isn’t like us,” Hawke said, quietly but with a stubborn edge.  “The Fade will not affect him like it would one of us.”

“Because he’s from a – another world?” Anders tried to hold back his skepticism, he truly did, but it was absurd.  “How can you believe that?”

Hawke dropped the ladle back into the pot, letting it cling and slide in low to the steaming stew, and leveled Anders with a fierce stare.  “Because it makes sense.  Fitz would never lie about something like this.”

Anders scoffed.  “Are we speaking of the same person?  He _always_ –”

“Not this,” Hawke interrupted, already knowing what Anders was about to say.  “He’s a filthy liar, but that was only ever to protect his secret.  Because he feared reactions such as this,” he pointed at Anders with an angry jab of his index finger.

“They held him in the sewers, did I mention that?” Hawke continued angrily, shaking his head as he picked the ladle back up to resume prodding at the food.  Anders felt a twinge of regret, watching carefully as Hawke's face twisted with emotion.  “When those mages realized they’d conjured a person from a different world, a world that magic hasn’t touched, they –”

The ladle bashed into the side of the pot with a loud clang, and Anders reached out a hand to pry the utensil from Hawke’s shaky grasp. 

“I don’t want to fight,” Anders said quietly.  “It doesn’t matter what I think.  Truthfully, I don’t know what to believe.  These past years have shaken quite a few of the beliefs I once strongly held.”

“It is simply hard for me to imagine a world where magic does not exist,” Anders explained as he busied himself with doling out portions of stew into the bowls laid out before them.  “It seems about as impossible as…physically walking the Fade, and yet here you stand.  Having been fully in the Fade, only six months ago.”

Hawke snorted.  “When you find – I mean, when we have Fitz back, he’ll convince you.  You’ll see.”

“Hawke,” Anders’ voice beckoned for the man to meet his gaze, and he waited until Hawke’s eyes were firmly on his own before speaking again. 

“I will do everything in my power to find Fitz,” he told the man solemnly, “I promise you that.  I will leave no stone unturned.”

Hawke cracked a smile.  “The stones are already unturned.  They’ll be hanging in the sky.”

They shared a laugh, and then Isabela’s voice was calling out from a few yards away.

“So, are you two quite done?  Or do we have to continue dawdling in the shadows like bandits about to rob you blind?”

“You don’t want to rob us,” Anders called back, tone lighter than before.  He was almost laughing once again as he added, “At least, not the stew.  Hawke’s burnt it.”

Groaning followed those words, and Hawke threw out an elbow that only just connected with Anders’ side, but he was laughing as well.

“It’s not burnt,” he yelled, while the others, Isabela in particular, aimed curses at him as they appeared within the light of the campfire.  “It’s cooked just as I wanted it.”

“I’m stabbing you if I see so much as a scorch mark,” Isabela griped, throwing herself heavily onto the ground.  She snagged a bowl quickly and began eating, apparently not even taking note of its contents despite her threat.

“This is why I suggested Hawke be the one to look for firewood,” Fenris muttered, also grabbing a bowl.  “He can’t cook.”

“Take that back!” Hawke gasped.  “I’ve cooked for you plenty of times.”

“Bodahn cooked,” Fenris shot back, rolling his eyes.  “You sat around asking if it was ready yet.”

“Slander and lies,” Hawke said, narrowing his eyes at the elf sitting next to him.  “Varric, will you stand for this?”

Varric leveled him with a flat look and refrained from commenting.

“You know what food is good?  The shit at Skyhold, surprisingly,” he said instead.  “They have cakes.”

“We know,” Fenris replied.  “You forced all of us to try them.  Merrill ate an entire plate.”

“There was nothing forced about the way you scarfed them down either, Broody,” Varric retorted.

“Can we not talk about luxury food?” Anders requested, somewhat sadly.  Varric shrugged, perhaps a bit unapologetically, but refrained from going further on the topic of Skyhold’s food services.

“Luxury’s right here, my friend,” Hawke said, shoving the last bowl into Anders’ hands.  “Eat up, you need your strength.”

“Thanks,” Anders muttered, unamused as the others laughed at his expense. 

The food was slightly burnt, but luckily, when the day was done, Hawke found himself completely free of any new stab wounds.

~

Leliana was staring at me with something akin to amazement and, oddly enough, triumph.

“I _knew_ there was something off about you,” she announced to the War Council, briefly looking away from me in order to exchange glances with the two people standing next to her.  “Your story was much too mysterious to be as normal as you appear.”

“Never been called normal before,” I muttered, casting sullen looks at Amrita, which she was stubbornly ignoring. 

She’d been avoiding looking at me since summoning me to the War Room, tearing me from the little bubble that me and Merrill had made out of my old room.  Since returning to Skyhold just a few hours earlier, we had kept to ourselves up there while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I was very much back on earth and not in the Fade or some other unknown shithole.  However, since it was Amrita’s fault I was now down here instead up there, I couldn’t let her get away with ignoring me.

“The hell you tell _them_ for?” I hissed, not really caring if the others heard me or not.  “You for real?”

Amrita inclined her head, eyes darting my way briefly, and replied, “It had to be done.  They thought you were a lost cause.”

“Harsh words, Inquisitor,” Leliana said, looking between the both of us as she went on, “It is almost entirely unheard of for a person to escape the Fade with their lives and minds intact.  Particularly after the length of time _you_ spent trapped in there.  Forgive us for our rational doubt that you could even survive such an experience.”

“Mind you, we did have research being conducted, by various different outlets,” Josephine put in, though I thought I heard a bit of regret in her voice.  “Dorian and Solas were leading the search, with very little progress, I’m afraid.  There simply aren’t the resources for this type of occurrence, you see.”

“Huh, well, good thing I sold my – wait,” I swiveled my head back round to Leliana, staring at her with wide eyes.  “How long was I in there for?”

She looked at Amrita, but answered me, “Just around six months.”

My jaw almost dropped open, and I had to grip the edge of the war table to keep myself from simply dropping bodily onto the ground.

“Merrill didn’t tell you?” Amrita asked, hesitantly.

“We…weren’t really talking,” I admitted, though that wasn’t necessarily the truth.  Merrill had tried to say some things to me, but the whispers were getting louder during that time, so I ended up ignoring her a bit.  She let up, and eventually we were just sitting side by side in my room.  When the whispers died down, the silence was like a blessing, and I couldn’t find the energy to break it, not even to ask all of the questions I had.

I shook my head, and straightened out of the slouch I was in.

“Look,” I said, addressing the three advisors standing in front of me with a frown on my face.  “I don’t have anything to say about where I’m from, and I definitely don’t owe you guys any explanations ‘bout it either.  So, don’t even ask, got it?”

“We weren’t planning to,” Josephine was quick to assure me, sending an appealing look to each of her fellow advisors for back up.  Cullen nodded awkwardly, which was more than I expected because he hadn’t even been able to look me in the eyes since welcoming me back.  I was reasonably sure he had no clue how to deal with me, but other than that, I was at a loss over what he could possibly be thinking, not that I really cared or anything.  Surprisingly, Leliana was more blatant.  She didn’t nod her head in agreement with Josephine’s words, and she didn’t say anything either; instead, she looked to the side and said nothing at all.

“You have nothing to worry,” Josephine reiterated, and I think she might have tried to nudge Leliana, but I’m not sure, and continued, “We only wanted to hear a report of your experiences in the Fade, and there is the Well of Sorrows to discuss as well.  Lady Morrigan will need to be notified once Dagna is done.” 

“Who?” I asked dully, but I was cut off and my question went ignored.

“But, first,” Amrita continued where Josephine left off, and I could feel her curious gaze even though I wasn’t looking at her.  I could feel all of their stares.  “How did you get out?”

There was wonder in her voice, and what must have been leftover disbelief from the shock of even seeing me in the Temple of Mythal in the first place.  I flicked one of the markers on the huge map before me, placed over top of the Frostback Basin, but it was transfixed to the table so it didn’t topple over.  I flicked it again, regardless.

Nobody spoke yet; they were letting me take my time apparently.  Something about that convinced me to open my mouth.

“An Eluvian…” I said, unsure of how to explain.  Did I have to tell them about the old hag?  I wasn’t sure if they’d believe me or not, because I knew damn well that you don’t just meet another human being in the Fade; I was supposed to be the first in a millennium or whatever to actually travel it (and I’m not counting Amrita and the others’ short trip there either).  I didn’t really want to hear them tell me that Flemeth must’ve been a spirit or a figment of my imagination; I really, really didn’t want to hear that.

“An Eluvian just happened to open for you?” Cullen asked, skeptically.  I guess I took too long to elaborate, but I still jumped a little at his voice. 

The whispers in my head were talking again, and I couldn’t stop a frown from forming on my face.

“No.  She opened it,” I told him, furrowing my brow in concentration.

“It might help if you explain a bit more, Fitz,” Leliana suggested, not unkindly.  “Who is ‘she’?”

I glanced at Amrita, whose eyes were wide, though her demeanor remained as calm as could be.  She would believe me.

“A woman named Flemeth,” I said, aiming my words directly at Amrita and ignoring the sudden movement that came from Leliana’s direction.  “She was human.  She could touch me.”

“Neither spirits nor demons can do that, correct?” Josephine questioned, though I’m sure Amrita must’ve explained that to them already.

I nodded, already turning my eyes back to Amrita, and realized she was in the midst of staring at Leliana.

“Isn’t that –” she began to say, and Leliana didn’t let her finish.

“It is,” the spymaster confirmed.  Then, she was turning her narrowed eyes on me, frowning heavily.  “Is it safe to assume that you do not know who Flemeth is?”

“Uh, well, I mean…” I looked to the side.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“She is the mother of Morrigan, believe it or not,” Leliana told me.  “She is…dangerous, to put it simply.”

“You must tell us everything.  Sparing no details, if you will, Fitz,” she continued, an authoritative tone in her voice that I instinctively resented.  I swallowed down the emotion though, and did as she said.

~

Leliana was ruthless with her questioning.  She wasn’t really showing it, but I could tell that she wasn’t really happy with me.  Though I was trying to keep on task throughout her interrogation, I kept getting distracted, which made it really hard to answer her questions in a way that was satisfactory to her.  So, I was pretty fucking relieved when she was finally done, even though we did slide into more questioning about my time in the Fade after the Flemeth thing was exhausted. 

I told them about how I killed the Nightmare, and then how I’d mostly just walked around after that.  I sort of told them about some of the spirits I met, but I had already decided not to speak of what happened with the knowledge spirit, so I didn’t even tell them that I met it in the first place.  Mostly, they just wanted to know if I’d somehow learned some deep, dark secret of the Fade.  I didn’t, so there wasn’t a whole to talk about.

“Can I go now,” I said dully, not even bothering to pose my words as a question. 

“Apologies, but not yet,” Josephine was writing on her clipboard as she spoke, and Amrita briefly laid a hand on my arm in sympathy, as the ambassador continued, “The arcanist wishes to speak with you as well.  And then there is the issue of the Well to discuss.”

Josephine skirted around the table with quick steps, still jotting things down on her clipboard as she went.  Then she was gone, only for a split second, and she came back with a short woman by her side.

“Fitz, this is Dagna,” Josephine introduced.  “As I said, she has some questions for you, pertaining to her research of the Fade.”

“Oh, Ancestors!  You live!” the dwarf exclaimed, looking up at me with wide, excitable eyes.  “I mean, I knew you lived – they told me a few hours ago – but _wow_!  Oh, questions, I have many and I need as much detail as you can give me, please.  And samples!  I would kill for some samples.”  She eyed me like I was prime meat, and though I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about, that didn’t mean I was okay with creepy ogling. 

“Samples?” I growled, turning to Amrita and glaring.  “I am _not_ giving samples – whatever the _fuck_ that means.”  Dagna spoke before Amrita could.

“It means hair!  Or, you know, some skin.  A toenail?  Anything really, including that shirt you’re wearing – you had that on in the Fade, yes?  It looks it.”

I stared at Amrita and she stared back relentlessly. 

“Let Dagna do her job,” she said, not really asking but not quite demanding either.  “Please.”

I looked back down at the excitable dwarf in front of me for a solid moment, and she grinned back and gave me an awkward wave, before I finally gave in and took my torn up shirt right off in one quick swoop.

“You can have my toenails,” I decided, thinking logically for once.  “They need to be cut anyways.”

“Yippee!  I mean, good.  Great.”  Dagna hopped around a little, in excitement, and then produced a pair of nail cutters immediately, making me narrow my eyes at the readiness with which she responded to my offer. 

She laughed, awkwardly.  “I like to come prepared.  I brought normal scissors, too, and even one of those fancy skin scrubbers that the Orlesians like – I just thought you’d have a preference and here we are!  You chose toenails!”  Dagna paused, and then added, “Can I have some fingernails too?”

“You’re fuckin’ weird,” I said, choking on a laugh as I crouched down, accepting the clippers from her hands and getting to work.

“Ah, yes, heard that before,” she replied, brightly.  “So, um, about those questions…”

I think the whole room breathed a sigh of relief when I answered Dagna’s first question without so much as an attitude, which was sort of rude because that meant they had all been expecting me to be difficult about all this.  I mean, I didn’t _want_ to talk about it, but I also knew I had to get it over with anyways, though Dagna did seem to go on forever.  Eventually Amrita had to cut the woman off, and the dwarf didn’t even object.  She just happily thanked me for my time and nails (and my shirt), and scurried out of the room in record time.

“So, I’m guessing she doesn’t know about me?” I wondered aloud, feeling a bit dazed in the wake of such energy. 

“No,” Amrita laughed.  “I wouldn’t have been able to get her to leave if she had known.”

“Good,” I sighed, running my fingers over my forearms, the jagged ends biting into my skin thanks to my subpar nail job.  “But, Hawke knows.” 

Saying it aloud felt like…something I couldn’t even describe.  I felt a heavy feeling leave me, only to be replaced by a different kind of heavy feeling.  He knew, but he wasn’t even here for me to gauge his reaction.  I never gave it much thought, that I wouldn’t actually be the one to tell him my secret, and it was kind of hard to swallow.

“And Merrill,” I continued, after taking a deep breath.  I glanced at Amrita, “And I’m betting Varric does, too.”

Amrita’s smile was slightly strained.  “Did Merrill tell you how she came to Skyhold?  She didn’t come alone.”

I blinked.  “The others are here, too?”

“Yes – well, no, they’re with Hawke now, but Fenris and Isabela were here as well, and Hawke told them everything, so…”

“Well, that’s okay…I knew he wouldn’t have kept this from them for too long,” I said slowly, looking at Amrita oddly.  She being weird about this, like she thought I’d freak about Hawke telling our friends my secret. 

“And, they’re not the only ones who know,” Amrita said in a rush, cringing a bit when she looked at my face.

“Cole always knew,” I said, mind racing.  “Wait… _who else did you tell_?”

“Cassandra was informed,” Leliana said helpfully, and I watched as Amrita shot a pointed look at the other woman. 

“Oh my god, who else?” I demanded, eyes wide.

“Well, Dorian and Solas were trying to find out how to get you home and they needed to –”

“Oh my god,” I said in horror, my mouth gaping open a little.  “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Amrita admitted, sounding slightly sympathetic.  “But, I had to.  They needed to at least know why they were searching for someone who, by all means, should have died in the Fade.  They _had_ to know.”

“No, they didn’t.  Just order them around, for Christ’s sake.  You’re the goddamn Inquisitor!”

“I will not abuse my power!  Besides, I can think of worse people to know about you!  At least they’re scholars, and good men, too!”

“Jesus, I’m not worried about them knowing – I’m worried about them askin’ me shit!” I exclaimed, headache forming at the thought.  “Dorian’s never gonna shut up, and – oh fuck, Solas is gonna be all weird, too.  Shit, did you tell him I’m not an elf?  That’s really gonna fuck him up.”

“I…I let him read your journal.”  Amrita hurried to explain herself when I turned wide eyes on her, “I thought he’d understand your story better that way!”

“You – you dick!  You let him read that?” I gasped.  “I wrote about him in those journals, ‘Rita!  I said _things_!  _Bad things_.”

“Now I kind of want to read these journals,” Leliana muttered thoughtfully to her fellow advisors, all but forgotten in the light of these new realizations.  I did look over though, in time to catch Josephine’s empathetic nod and just as I heard the snort that Cullen couldn’t quite smother.

“You’ll never read them,” I announced, a bit daringly seeing as I was speaking to the Inquisition’s spymaster.  “I’m going to burn them.”  I turned around, half-intending to do just that and also half-wanting to just leave and go back to my bubble with Merrill, but Amrita halted me.  By that point, I think Amrita realized I wasn’t actually angry with her, though she still seemed a bit guilty.

She sent me yet another sympathetic smile, as she said, “We’ve yet to discuss the Well of Sorrows, remember?  Morrigan should be here soon.”

“Fitz, before Morrigan arrives, I must ask if you would refrain from mentioning that you met her mother.  Just for the timing being,” Leliana requested, or ordered, her eyes bearing down on me from across the table.  “I fear how she will react.  It would be best if I could think it over, before informing her of this.”

I waved a hand at her and, quite honestly, I had almost forgotten about the mother-daughter relation thing.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Like I care.  I’m more preoccupied with how _you’re killin’ me here_.” 

Giving up, I let myself flop over onto the war table, nearly knocking over a little marker that lay on the edge of the huge map that expanded over the entirety of the table’s surface.  Leaning heavily on one elbow, and propping my face onto my fist, I looked over at Amrita with a tilt of my head.

“I haven’t even bathed yet, you know.”

“Oh, we know,” Leliana said, bluntly.  “And, please, we all hope this meeting will go quickly so that you may finally go do that.”

I squinted up at her, and I opened my mouth to reply, but just then Morrigan entered the room.

“I do hope you’re in a better mood,” was the first thing out of her mouth, and it was, predictably, aimed at me.

“I’m never in a better mood,” I snapped back without thinking.

“Fitz,” Amrita warned, and I shrugged, still leaning over the table.

“Let’s hurry this along, shall we?” Morrigan said, snubbing her nose at me for the moment.  “My son will only remain amused by his studies for so long without someone to watch over him.”

I made a face, and almost asked if she seriously had a kid, but Amrita jumped right into it, and then the advisors did too, and as for me; I just sort of stood there.  Slouched there?  I stopped listening when I heard the words ‘Corypheus’ and ‘retreat’.

The whispers were getting louder.  I think they could hear what was going on around me, which was fucking weird, and if I focused, I could almost understand all that was being said in my head.

That was a weird thing to think, but at this point, am I really surprised?  No.  Not really.

“What do you hear?”

I tilted my head to the side, just barely, to glance at Morrigan, who looked incredibly interested and not sarcastic at all.  I rubbed my temples, letting a short moment of silence fill the War Room as everybody waited for my response.

“The voices…” I began to say in a quiet, mystic tone.  I closed my eyes briefly, nodding my head.  “They say…They say I should leave.  Meeting’s over.”

“You’re not funny,” Amrita grumbled, leaning over the table besides me and writing stuff down on a piece of paper that Josephine must have handed to her.

“This is the one deemed suitable for the Well’s knowledge?” Morrigan scoffed, lips curled as she looked at me with distaste.  “This is a grave matter, and yet you treat it as a joke.”

“You got me,” I drawled back, raising my eyebrows.  “Oh, man.  You’re good.  I thought I was hiding the sarcasm pretty well, too.”

Morrigan’s frown deepened, and I smiled shallowly back to her.

“Fitz,” Amrita called my attention, her voice heavy and tired.  When I looked at her, she appeared just as tired as she sounded.  “I know you need to rest, and that you’ve had a long day…a long six months.  But, if you could just help us out here?  Just do what you can?”

I pursed my lips, trying to strangle the guilty part of me before it showed, and nodded.

With a sigh, I asked them to repeat themselves, and then I let the voices take over.

Relating what they said wasn’t that hard, if a bit boring.  It went quickly, and then I was heading back to my room, hoping Merrill was still waiting for me.

Merrill was waiting, and she even had a tub brought up to my room for me to bathe in.  She was all smiles when I slouched into my now spotless room, though her face lapsed into confusion after she got a good look at me.

“What happened to your shirt?”

I made a small noise, glancing down at my bare chest with a little surprise.  “Oh, yeah.  I forgot I donated it.”

I shrugged, laughing a bit, which brought Merrill’s smile back.  “That explains all the weird looks I got on my way here.”

Merrill shook her head at me, and just told me to bathe.  I did so gladly, and the room was quiet for a moment as I undressed further and sank myself into the warm water.  Merrill didn’t try to talk, but when I spoke first, she threw herself into the conversation with enthusiasm, answering all of my questions as well as the ones I didn’t even think of yet.

This time, when she talked, I made sure to listen.

~

“Sorry, you have to be this tall to talk to me,” I said, holding my hand up high above my head.  “Have a nice day.”

“Alright, I’ll just go get the Iron Bull then, shall I?” Solas replied dryly, playing along even though he didn’t seem particularly amused.

“Uh, no, I said this tall exactly,” I gestured with a quick cut of my hand, “No taller, no shorter, exactly this height.  Bull can’t talk to me either.”  I said the last bit just to clarify my meaning, because it seemed like he wasn’t getting me, but I was really just hoping he’d scowl at me, get pissed off or something.

“You’re in a particularly insufferable mood today,” he said instead, looking down his nose at me.  “Consider me surprised at the possibility.”  Then, Solas turned on his heels and left me in favor of his little room, probably to go paint or jack off or something.

It was true that I hadn’t been in the best of moods recently, even though I should have been happy or something.  I wasn’t in the Fade anymore, and I was surrounded by friends, but for some reason, I couldn’t find it in myself to even be pleasant most of the time.  Not when I knew that people would just ask more questions.

I shrugged my encounter with Solas off, he’d get over it.  On my first day back in Skyhold, I had to spend the entire afternoon talking to Amrita and her advisors about my stupid trip in the Fade; I had to let some lady take _samples_ from me.  She took my _toenails_ and that dumb shirt I’d worn since Adamant, for crying out loud.  And then I had to be all ‘one with the voices in my head’ before they’d let me shuffle off back to my room.  And it’s been like that for _days_ now; me going to the War Room, talking shit, relating back information like some unconventional middleman, and it was just overall _exhausting_.  Solas would just have to get in fucking line if he wants to talk about shit. 

I wasn’t just being petty because he knew about my past; there was more to it than that.

I swear.

A few days had passed since I’d arrived back at Skyhold, and while I was trying very hard not to be antisocial, I found it difficult to handle being around so many people.  I felt incredibly awkward, and while the looks I got mostly had to do with the residual effects of shouting at the Inquisitor in the middle of the garden and then running through the castle like a madman, they still made me feel twitchy.

The war room meetings weren’t helping things, mostly because of the part where I had to actually think and relate back helpful information to everyone else.  I think I did an okay job of it though, surprisingly, and even Morrigan was slightly impressed.  She made a snide comment about exactly _how_ surprising my interpretation skills were, and I retorted with an admittedly lame jab at her age.

Then, there was Dorian.

He showed up to my bedroom, armed with paper and books, while I was in the middle of telling Merrill about the days I’d spent as a scout for the Inquisition.  I was just telling her about the dragon I’d seen in the Hinterlands when Dorian nearly bust down the door.

When I finally cracked the door open, I was taken off guard by the way he was straight-out _beaming_ at me.

“Uh, hey, nice to…see you again, but I’m –”

“While I must agree that I really am a sight for your sore eyes,” Dorian interrupted fluidly, attempting to wave a hand and not really succeeding because of the stuff in his arms.  “Let’s dispense with the whole ‘how are you’s. I think we all know the answer to that anyway.”

“I’m more interested in learning about _you_ ,” he continued, quickly adding on, “And the Inquisitor warned me of your…sensitivities, so you needn’t worry.  I am purely fascinated by your relationship to magic.”  Dorian finished speaking with a grand smile stretched across his face, and then he raised his eyebrows expectantly, patiently waiting for me to open the door wider for him to come in.

“Can’t you wait?  Like, I’ve been back for –”

“You’ve been holed up in this room for three days running,” Dorian interrupted, in a ‘no nonsense’ type of voice.  “And I’m not counting the times that the Inquisitor squirrels you away to the War Room.  That does _not_ count.”

A frown tugged at my lips, and I tried not to scowl, because he was kind of right.  I kept myself locked away for the most part, and I’ve really only talked to Merrill since coming back.  It was hard adjusting after being away for so long, and sometimes it was hard to sleep let alone function around other people. 

Thinking back to the rude way I’d handled Solas, I figured it was best if I practiced a little more restraint and courtesy.  After all, like Solas, Dorian had spent the last few months contributing to a fruitless study looking for a way to get me back.  Making a note to actually apologize to Solas, I let Dorian in with only the smallest of sighs.

He greeted Merrill perkily, and she replied in kind, and then the two of them geeked out over magic for the next however long.  I was almost certain Merrill had been painfully refraining from asking about the magic thing herself, out of respect for me, but the entrance of Dorian and my subsequent compliance threw all her inhibitions out the window.

I had a personal reason for subjecting myself to this as well, and it had to do with something that even the voices in my head wouldn’t discuss with me.  That last spirit I’d spoken to, the one whose death finally allowed me to get the fuck out of the Fade, had left me with a lot to think about and I really was thinking about it this time; I wasn’t just shunting it aside as something I’d rather not involve myself with.  For once in my life. 

I figured, maybe, I should tell someone about it.

~

“Yeah, but can you send another one?”

Leliana leveled me with a stern look, and finally stopped writing in order to give me her full attention. 

“I already told you,” she said slowly, as if I were stupid.  “We sent a raven to Hawke the day you arrived here.”

“You can’t send another one, though?” I stressed, leaning on her table with both hands spread apart.  “What if it misses him?  Or it dies or somethin’?  Bird isn’t exactly the most reliable form of communication.”

“If I send another one, will you leave me alone?”

“Yeah!”

“Fine,” she said, perhaps a bit snappishly.  “Consider it done.  Now, may I return to my work?”

I held up my hands, giving her an innocent look in return to the pointed one she sent my way.

“Got it.  I’m goin’.”

I left the rookery quickly after that.  I had to go the long way to get through the library without Dorian catching sight of me, but it was manageable and I only got a few looks for dodging beneath a desk at one point.  Why the Vint had to stake out the desk closest to the staircase, I don’t even know.  I had to wait for him to disappear into the little nook beside said desk before I could dart out from the bookcase I was hiding behind and make it to the stairs.

Trying to sidestep Solas was impossible, of course, but he was still sore about the way I’d snapped at him a few days ago, so he only let his eyes pass over me when I walked into the rotunda.  Guilt bit at me, but, once again, I shoved it down.  I did have to apologize, and I was trying to give the socializing thing a whirl, though I could really only handle short bursts at one time.

“Hey,” I greeted, keeping my voice extra low, in fear that Dorian would somehow hear me.  “Can, uh – you got a minute?”

“I suppose that would depend,” Solas said, his voice firm and not at all hushed like mine, “Do I need to be of a certain height to speak to you this time?”

“I’m sorry ‘bout that,” I said quickly, cringing at the severity of his tone.  “I was, uh, really annoyed?  By, like, everything?  And I took it out on you – so not cool of me, by the way – so I’m…sorry.”

Solas had been painting, as was predictable, and he put down his brush in order to turn towards me with a solemn expression, probably watching me avoid eye contact.  He waited for me to go on.

“I don’t know how I feel about so many people knowing…about me, and my life,” I admitted, staring at the murals lining the rotunda walls, and faintly picking out which were new additions and which were old.  “I know you probably got questions, too, but I don’t talk about my old home.  I don’t like to think about it.”

“Do you not wish to remember?  It was home to you for sixteen years of your young life.  That is not easily brushed away,” Solas commented; voice softened, though his gaze was just as intense.

I shrugged, idly throwing a glance up at the library railings, towards the quiet murmuring of voices that were spread out along the tower’s second floor.  “If I don’t think about it, it doesn’t hurt.  And I got a life here now, and people I care about.”

My gaze flitted back his way, and then to the door, as I continued, “I’d rather focus on them, and where I’m at now, rather than on some past I’ll never get back.  I’m not saying I don’t miss home, but…it’s been a long time, and I’m tired of always being sad about it.”

Solas looked away, at the door I was not-so-subtly eyeing, and sighed.

“So, I may never ask what your old life was like?” he said, a bit wistfully.  “To think of it…is beyond my imagination.”

“You read my journals,” I replied, sullenly.  “You already heard some of that shit.”

“And I understood very little of it,” he said back, dryly.  “You wrote what were clearly references to something, but you would never explain what they meant, and even your short descriptions of home were largely inscrutable.”

“I simply find it a wonder,” he continued, an undercurrent of curiosity breaking through his carefully arranged composure.  “A life wholly unlike our own, a world where magic is likely to have never touched…it is almost as unthinkable as it is fascinating.  You cannot blame me for yearning to learn more.”

“Give me some time,” I muttered, mostly as a wishy-washy sort of concession.  “Maybe later…”

“I ask nothing of you right now,” Solas reassured me, granting me a small smile.  “You should rest.  It would not do you any good to overwhelm yourself.”

“Yeah,” I said, wryly, thinking back to the War Room meetings and the overall weirdness that was being around people again.  “Wouldn’t wanna do that.”  I started backing away from him.

“So, um, I should go.  You know, before Dorian looks down and sees me.  I’m avoiding him, too,” I explained, taking a few more steps towards the door.

“You were avoiding me as well?” Solas questioned me with a raised brow.

“Uh, no,” I laughed, hurrying up, “Okay, nice chat.  See ya!”

~

It was similar to that night in the Frostbacks, back when Anders first attempted to contact Fitz in the Fade.

The mage shot up from where he had been lying, with energy he had not shown throughout the entire time they’d all been travelling together, and it was with a gasp that he finally opened his eyes to look out at the canvas draped high over his head. 

Hawke leaned in, fists clenched, and accidentally bumped shoulders with Varric due to his sudden movement.  He was just about to say something when Anders dragged his subdued eyes away from the tent above them.  Anders met Hawke’s anticipation with dread, because he had no good news to give.

Anders began by shaking his head, making Hawke’s heart drop with the suddenness of a rock being thrown off a cliff. 

“He was – there was a lesser spirit, a wisp,” Anders began to explain, voice rasping slightly from disuse.  His eyes were full of sorrow as he made sure to lock eyes with Hawke.  “The spirit told me Fitz has left.  He said –”

Anders gulped, throwing a look at the only other inhabitant of the tent, which Varric met with a shuddered expression, before continuing. 

“He said, ’Fitz no longer exists in the Fade, as is right’,” the mage said, shaking his head some more. 

“He would tell me nothing else.  Hawke, I swear to you, he would say nothing else."

Hawke looked down, after a moment, as he tried to process Anders' news, but he found that he could not think of a single thing to say.  He could not find the energy to even reply.  Instead, he just nodded, a sad, short jerk of his head, and turned away towards his bedroll.  He laid down as if to sleep, even though he had no intentions of doing so.

Varric was subtle as he left the tent to inform the other two of the new revelations, and Anders was likewise silent as he laid back down to rest.

Camp was quiet for the duration of their stay, and their surroundings seemed to reflect the traveler's moods as well.  It was not until a few days into their journey back to Skyhold that Hawke found the ability to fake a smile or even contribute to the others' weak attempts at normal conversation.  He had promised not to get his hopes up, but that was a hard promise to keep.

So subdued was the company, that nobody noticed a raven fly by, and nor did a raven see them trekking through the hidden paths along the Orlesian countryside.  It was a shame their paths had not crossed, for it would have spared them all many days of grief and bitter disappointment. Life was like that sometimes, and it truly is a pity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not listen to 'find my way back' by eric arjes and think about hawtz at the same time, dont do it
> 
> i swear i meant to have the Ultimate Reunion in this, but this chapter turned into even more of a monster than usual so i had to split it up ((side note: ugh so i wanted this out on the 14, cuz this story officially turned a year old on that day!!!!! but i'm late by like twenty minutes so :( happy belated birthday my little monster))). 
> 
> please expect the next chapter to be up soon. thank you all so so much for all the comments, i really can't tell you how much i smile whenever i get an email and read what you guys have to say :) its all very sweet and makes my heart swell tbh
> 
> lastly, i put together a dropbox folder for screenshots of my fitz from DAI & some of the art i've drawn throughout this year, so please ~ [check it out!!](https://www.dropbox.com/sh/sr2ucz4mdauhzky/AADqTem1JMzWLh3RNLGmV3Caa?dl=0) and i promise next chapter won't take as long as the past couple :))
> 
> *** new fanart from [happysnowdragon!!!](https://www.dropbox.com/s/1t03x0ts4hdy2fr/FITZZZ1.png?dl=0) ***


	55. Act III: The Road's Long, But You're Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are, you guys  
> //ahh im sorry its sooo long it just happened and i didnt wanna cut anything so sry///  
> ((also, Happy Birthday to the Guest who's bday was on July 18th!!))

Cole didn’t approach me until quite a few days after my return.  In the days prior, I had not gone looking for him, and I can only assume he had been doing the same. 

Tonight, however, was different.  I was trying to keep away from the temptation that was locking myself in my room all day; I was still getting the hang of being back, even though being around people continued to catch me off guard most of the time.  I had decided to go to one of the places that Cole and I used to hang out in all the time, figuring it’d be a safe place to chill once the stablehands were gone and the place was deserted except for the animals.

The stables were more crowded than before, which I guess was predictable.  Being gone for six months didn’t exactly mean everything would stay the same as I left it, especially since it’s the Inquisition and everything.  They had to move on, there were bigger things that needed attention, much bigger than me, and I understood that perfectly.  It just made me wonder how long it would’ve taken for them to give up on me.  They probably should’ve done it a while ago, and I wasn’t under any delusions that the search for me was top priority in any way, no matter how much Amrita would’ve liked to make it so. 

My mind was telling me I was lucky to have found a way out by myself.  Sort of.

Cole wasn’t as good at hiding as he used to be; though to be fair, he could never really hide from me in the first place.  I felt his presence somewhere behind me, to my left, and it felt a lot like hovering; like hesitation.

“There’s more kittens,” I said, stretching my voice to reach the other side of the barn.  A kitten bat its paws at my foot, but its claws weren’t out to scratch the skin.  It immediately fell over onto its back once it saw that my attention had been caught, so I reached out a hand to give it a nice belly rub.  The kitten’s purring was loud and it wiggled a bit, flattening itself into the loose straw that was strewn across the ground.

“They were born a few months ago,” Cole told me, voice quiet, as he stepped out of the shadows and approached my spot.  He stopped a few feet away before crouching down alongside me.

“I tried to name this one after you, but Sera got mad.”  He picked up the smallest cat, who mewled happily at the touch, and laid it down on his lap.  Cole stared at the kitten, as he spoke to me, “Abandoned, and lost, what do I do?  I don’t know where I am, or who surrounds me, and I’m so, so hungry.”

“She needed help,” Cole continued, tilting his head slightly in my direction.  “The stable boy thought she’d die eventually, a runt can’t survive on its own, and Sera got angry when I told her I named this kitten for you.”  He stared at me then, with wide eyes and a solemn look to them, and I stared back.  When I held my arms out for the kitten, Cole obliged.

“Hey there, Fitz Jr, my man,” I murmured softly to the small cat, and she gave me a confused meow as she twisted around in my hold.  Eventually, she found a comfortable spot hanging from my shoulder, and she told me so by butting the side of my head with hers.  “Look at you, all not dead and shit.  Cole been takin’ good care of you?”

“I have,” Cole replied, still with that solemn edge.  “Master Dennett said you could keep her.”

I made a small sound, a little surprised but ultimately pleased.  “Nice of him.  How’d Iron Man turn out?”

“Fully recovered.  They tried to put him back into the wild, but he kept coming back.”

I looked away from Fitz Jr at that, face probably showing my surprise and glee, “Iron Man’s still here?  Where?”

Cole turned his head, face thoughtful for a moment before it adopted a more curious expression.  “About to pounce.”

“Wha –”

I was met with a thump and a yip, as four little legs planted themselves onto my back and pushed me forward from the force of it.  Fitz Jr mewled her confusion and displeasure, while I tried my hardest not to jostle her too much as I moved her from my shoulder and onto my lap.  Meanwhile, Iron Man was currently clinging to my back, his claws dug in, and he was chattering away into my ear.

“Little man!” I exclaimed, twisting around to drag the excited fox off of me.  He accepted my hold eagerly, with only a few nips at my fingers, and fell into my arms quickly.  He let me cradle him like a baby, though he kept trying to surge upwards to bark in my face.  “Yeah, man, I missed you too!  Look at that leg!”

Iron Man rolled around in my arms, and eventually he was being so wiggly, I had to put him down.  He dealt with that by jumping up, placing his front paws on my knees, and then jumping away and repeating.  Fitz Jr was not at all pleased by the entrance of the excitable fox, and she had taken the first opportunity to crawl off my lap to take cover with Cole, who picked her up immediately. 

I probably spent a good half hour wrestling and playing with Iron Man, before he became interested with something else and sped out of the barn like a madman.  When he was gone, I flopped backwards onto the ground with an exaggerated sigh.

“You just let him roam free?  Causing mayhem around Skyhold?” I asked, turning my head towards Cole.

He shrugged.  “He annoys some people, but for the others…he’s, or he was, a reminder of sorts.”  Cole inched closer to me, still petting Fitz Jr with a gentle hand.  “I heard Cassandra say that he reminded her of you, only less offensive.”

“Nice,” I replied, cringing a bit as I recalled how the Seeker was among the few who now knew my deepest darkest secrets.  I hadn’t even seen her since she carried me through the Eluvian.  “Glad to hear it.”

We were silent for a moment, just listening to the nighttime sounds around us and just chilling in general.  In one of the far off stalls, a horse stamped their feet, and even farther away, we heard a shout of laughter, probably from a drunk.  Other than that, all was pretty quiet.

It was really nice.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Cole asked suddenly, as though he’d been waiting to ask it for a long time.

“Don’t you already know?” I countered, turning away from him and back towards the little nest that the cats had made their home in. 

“No,” he replied bluntly, “I can guess, though.  You’re having nightmares.”

I shrugged, picking up the only other kitten that seemed to be awake.  All the others were sleeping, and even the mother looked like she was about to drop.  I guess it had to be pretty late, if even the cats were getting tired. 

“It’s more like I’m having life-shattering – uh, revelations?  Somethin’ like that…about how none of this is real.”  It was easy saying all of this to Cole, and it felt good to say it aloud.  “And this all just happens when I go to sleep, and when I wake up, it’s…it’s hard to tell myself that – that I’m _here_.  And not _there_.  You know?”

Cole’s eyes told me that he did in fact know, and he probably knew it very well, but he didn’t say anything right away.  I could tell that he was thinking, hard, on how to answer me, but I still half-expected him to stay silent.

“You’ve changed,” he said, and it took me a moment to realize that he was trying to explain his hesitation.  “Before, I could hear you, sometimes I could even hear you clearly, but now…it’s like you’re not here again.”

“I – I think it may be my fault,” Cole continued, and I furrowed my brows at the confusion I heard in his voice.  “I’m not the same either, I’m – I’m closer to be more human than the last we spoke, and I can’t read a lot of people like I used to, but I can still hear them.  With you,” he looked me in the eyes, “It’s nothing.  All I can do is…guess.”

“You guessed the nightmare thing pretty accurately,” I replied weakly, giving him a small grin.  "Don't worry so much, kid."

“You don’t have to make _me_ feel better,” Cole said, and I thought he sounded almost bitter.  “I wish I knew how to make _you_ –”

“Is that why you were avoiding me?” I asked him, still keeping up my grin.  I tried to smother it when I saw Cole look away, but couldn’t quite manage it.  “Ah.”

“You wanted to be alone,” he explained.  “You were very vocal about it, too.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded easily, giving him a small nod of my head.  “But, you knew it was alright to approach me here.  Was that another guess?”

Cole nodded.

“Seems to me, you can read me better than you say you can, bro,” I told him, leaning back with my hands spread out behind me, ignoring the way that the straw scratched at my skin.

“I don’t want to say the wrong thing,” Cole said, looking at me with an endearing amount of sincerity.  “I can ask Solas to make you those teas again.”

I grimaced, remembering the taste of that awful drink.  “Nah, thanks though.  I’ma deal with it by occasionally not sleeping, and focusin’ on different shit.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Dude, it’s all cool.  My probs, my coping, yeah?”

“Your probs…” Cole murmured back, making me roll my eyes.

“So, were you there when ‘Rita spilled my secrets to the entire world?”

“She didn’t tell the entire world, though,” Cole replied, tilting his head, while I responded by quickly waving a dismissive hand at him.

“Point missed, bro – I just meant, did you see their reactions?  When Amrita told people ‘bout me?”

“Oh, right.  Yes, and no,” Cole answered, frowning a bit as he recalled the memories.  “The Inquisitor was very discrete, but I was listening for the most part, and – well, there were lots of emotions and it was hard to focus.”  Cole sucked in a quick breath before rushing right into a further explanation.

“I didn’t see Hawke until after he read your diaries, but Cassandra knocked over a full thing of ink when she found out, and Solas didn’t leave his room for three days –”

Cole had a lot to say, and it was actually pretty funny to hear, so I just listened.  I thought I’d feel more nervous, more sick, hearing about how other people reacted to my story, but instead, in that moment, I felt almost peaceful.

~

“How you holding up, kid?”

I grimaced into my cup, which remained as full as it did ten minutes ago when Bull shoved it into my hands.  I don’t know why I was pretending to drink it, why I was pretending to even look interested in drinking, but I was.  And, of course, I wasn’t exactly fooling anyone.

“I don’t wanna be here,” I said, narrowing my eyes when someone laughed extra loudly from across the tavern. 

“Well, don’t hold back on us now,” Krem cut in, smacking a hand on my shoulder and sliding into the seat next to me.  “It’s not as though we haven’t seen you in forever or anything like that.”

I leaned away from him, smirking a bit.  “What?  And deny you the pleasure of seeing this face?  Nah, bro.  I”ll deal.”  I took a tiny sip of ale, and nearly cringed.

“What Fitz _isn’t_ saying,” Bull said, copying my smirk, only much larger, “is that his babysitter is forcing him to be here.  To be around people.”  As if summoned, Merrill came back to the table, holding her own mug of shitty alcohol. 

“I can’t say I care for this stuff,” she immediately commented, sighing a little as she sat across from me.  “I suppose I’m too used to the Hanged Man.”  Merrill still took a big sip from her cup, so she couldn’t have found it to be that bad.  Then, she was leaning forward, looking around at the three of us before zoning in on Bull and Krem with an easy smile on her face.  “Both of you recently arrived back from the Western Approach, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” Bull said, nearly downing his drink in one go.  “Only been back a day when you all…appeared.”

Bull glanced at me, and I stared back.  I couldn’t tell how much he knew, or suspected.  Amrita told me he didn’t know _everything_ , but this was also the Iron Bull we were talking about.  Or, maybe I was just being a bit paranoid.

“You didn’t see Hawke by any chance, during your journey back?” Merrill asked, tilting her head and humming.  “Oh, you probably would’ve mentioned that by now…I just thought I’d ask, you see.”

Bull nodded, and Krem continued to sip his drink normally, casually.  It was weird seeing them and Merrill together, at the same table, but I didn’t say anything about it.

“Bit weird that we didn’t cross paths, now that I think about it,” Bull mentioned, sounding curious.  “But, then again, different routes and all that shit.”

Merrill hummed again, and glanced at me with a look in her eyes that I didn’t know what to make of, and then next thing I knew, she was saying goodbyes and flouncing off to talk to some lady on the other side of the room.

I watched her go, noticing how she greeted a few people on her way to her friend, and wondered how Merrill managed to get so popular.  Six months…

“Hawke teamed up with that apostate of yours, didn’t he?”  Bull’s question was abrupt, at least to me, but he said it in such a way that I knew it wasn’t _really_ a question.

I raised my eyebrows, adopting my best face of indifference, and said in my dullest voice, “How the fuck would I know?”  I waved a hand.  “Stuck in the Fade, remember?”

Bull snorted.  “Yeah, I don’t care anyway.  I am gonna go find the rest of the Chargers though.”  He stood, taking his mug with him, and the squeal of his seat made me twitch.  Bull did make it a point to lean down and look into my eyes before he left, saying, “If you wanna actually have fun, join us.”

And then he left.

Krem was still sitting by my side, and I usually liked his company, he was easy-going, but at the moment it just made me feel heavy.

“You can go, man,” I said, motioning for him to follow Bull.  “I’m probably gonna head out soon anyways.”

He caught my eye when I glanced to see if he was moving or not, and it wasn’t until he was sure I saw his expression that he finally stood up.

“You know,” he began, “we all thought you were dead.  It’s kind of like having a ghost in our midst, seeing you again.”

I laughed, weakly, and I probably should’ve said something, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I’m glad, though,” Krem continued, pushing his seat back with more care than Bull had only moments ago.  “It’s nice to have you back.”

All I heard was ‘glad you’re alive’, but I guess that was his point all along anyway. 

I watched Krem go too, waving goodbye when he looked back at me with a grin.  Hopefully, the next time I come down for a drink, I’ll actually be in the mood to have fun, and be happy. 

However, for now the sounds and the people were making me feel small and strained inside, so I knew it was about time I got lost.  Merrill would be disappointed, but she’d understand.

Recovery comes in small doses, right?

~

The next time Cole and I spoke, it was far away from the gentle air of the stables that made me feel so safe and quiet.  Instead, I was on the ramparts, which was quickly becoming my go-to spot during the day and sometimes during the night as well.  Usually it was too cold to be out, but I found that if I wrapped a thick enough blanket around myself, I barely even noticed the chill.  Something about the darkness and the loud wind was nice; it was comforting in its own way, and differently so than the comfort I felt in the stables.

“I think he wants to talk to you,” Cole told me, eyes darting to the side briefly.  He didn’t have to clarify who ‘he’ was, because I was well aware I had a silent watcher; I had known for quite a while now. 

While he hadn’t followed us through the Eluvian, it didn’t take long for Abelas to show up at Skyhold and, when he did, it was with a small entourage and the same stern gaze that I remembered from our short time together in the temple.

“Just ignore him,” I told Cole, deliberately raising my voice.  “He gets off on lurking.”

“No…I’m certain he’s waiting for me to leave.”

“ _Don’t_ leave, Cole,” I said, making sure to stress the ‘don’t’.  I gave him a look, but I could tell he had no clue about what I was getting at, or why I was content with ignoring Abelas.

The guy shows up a week after our Eluvian ride, demands to see me immediately, and then proceeds to basically shadow me 24/7.  It was annoying as hell.  The guy wasn’t even good at conversation.

“I’m…going to leave.”

“Oh my god.  Bro, that’s – that’s so not cool!”  I had to call the latter part of my sentence at Cole’s departing back, and he cruelly didn’t respond; he didn’t even look at me.  He must have known something was up between me and the old elf, because I got the feeling Cole wasn’t all that sympathetic about ditching me.

I whipped around, glaring at the shadow standing near the wall of the tower that rose high above the ramparts.  “Are you fuckin’ happy now?”

Abelas stepped forward, leveling me with an unimpressed look that was all too familiar.

“You are neglecting your health,” he said readily.  “You should be in bed.  How do you expect to fulfill your purpose if you are not at your best?”

“Jesus,” I breathed, ripping my gaze away from him with a huff.  “Can you lay off for one second?  I know you’re, like, a billion years old and wise as shit, but I don’t _actually_ care what you think.”

Abelas started muttering, and I’m sure it was about the youth of today or something like that, but he didn’t chastise me again.  He didn’t move away either; he just stood at my side as I sat there on the ramparts, hunched over and bundled up tight, and for a while, neither of us said a word.

I fell asleep up there, though I think it was only for a few minutes, and after I jerked out of my doze, Abelas just had to open his mouth.

“So, there _is_ a reason for this,” he said, with a distinct tone of disapproval.  “You are pining for a lover.”

I scowled at the sky before giving Abelas the stink eye.  He didn’t know about Hawke, not really.  He never asked about me or my life, so it goes without saying that there was _a lot_ he did not know.  And, he didn’t need to know either, and I got the sense that he didn’t really want to in any case.  I suppose we were both fine being enigmas with each other.

“If you gotta a problem, say it,” I hissed, almost hoping he’d snap back so that I could start a fight.

He didn’t bite.

“Matters of the heart are a distant memory for me,” he admitted instead, though he didn’t lose the frown.  “However you may feel about this person, you must still remember the duty you have been entrusted with.  A duty you swore to see through.”

I tried not to blatantly roll my eyes, but I didn’t exactly put a lot of effort into it. 

“Chill, bro.  It’s only been like a few days, and I _am_ doing my duty or whatever the fuck.  I’m using all that ancient fucking knowledge and makin' sure it isn't all forgotten and shit.  And, maybe, when we have some kind of actual direction, I can use it to help the Inquisition too.  What more do you want from me?”  To be honest, I felt like I’d done enough to warrant a goddamn break.  I have my own personal shit to sift through and, fuck, where the hell was Hawke anyway?  That question alone was eating away at me, making it pretty damn hard to care about some goddess and her dumb cult. 

“You are a testament that tells me Mythal still lives and walks this earth or the beyond,” Abelas came back with, speaking slowly and clearly for my benefit.  “Why she chose you to take the knowledge passed down from my people is not for me to know, but to simply accept.  Mythal does not make such decisions lightly, and she is always with reason.  You should be listening for her.”

“You think she’ll really speak to me?” I asked, honestly curious.  I leaned my head back, resting it against the stone of the parapet that was propping me up into my sitting position, and watched the sky as I waited for Abelas’ answer.  The stars were hidden tonight; I could only see the misty low-hanging clouds that were sometimes illuminated by the moonlight and occasionally the darkened tips of faraway mountaintops.  If I unfocused my eyes, and listened to the wind, it was just like sleeping, only without the nightmares.

“I think she already is,” Abelas replied.  “Whether you are truly listening is my real question.”

His eyes bore into me for a bit longer, but then he was backing away, back into the shadows, and I was left wondering if my thoughts were really my own anymore.

~

Solas was surprised at how often I heard the whispers.  He was even more astonished, if a bit disbelieving, when I told him that I actually knew what they were saying as well.

“The fact that you can hear them at all is truly astonishing,” Solas said, with a politely interested look on his face as he watched me shift around on the long couch that sat next to the doorway leading up to the library.  I shifted around until I was laying flat on my back, head propped up by one armrest while my feet hung completely off the opposite one, and then turned my head to look back at Solas with an equally reserved expression.

He was sitting at his desk this time, instead of painting his murals.  I guess he didn’t have anything to add yet, and even though I had quickly become familiar with the sight over these past few weeks, it was still hard not to stare at Solas’ paintings.  He’d added a lot to them since Adamant, and for some reason, it was a lot more interesting to look at them this time around.  The voices, which Solas was currently talking about, were fascinated by the paintings as well, and they had a lot to say about it.

“I thought you would have simply repelled any attempts to lay siege on your mind.  Since you are apparently not even elven, and you hold no connection at all to those past beings… they shouldn’t be able to reach you.”

There was a question in that.

“Hmm,” I let out a breath, glancing at him and wondering if I could get away with just walking off.  Probably not.  “They can.  I suppose we were wrong in thinking that I repel anything and everything magical, huh?”

“Meaning?”

I’m more like the ancient elvhen than anyone else, or something along those lines.  He didn’t need to know that.

“What painting style is that?” I asked, nodding at the walls.  Solas’ eyebrows came down ever so slightly, and I pretended not to notice the light sigh he let out. 

“You asked me that before,” he pointed out, before actually answering.  “It’s a fresco, in the elven style, meant to depict the actions and consequences of the Inquisitor –”

“Yeah, I got that,” I interrupted brusquely, waving a hand.  If I focused hard enough, I could nearly understand what the voices were telling me.  “It looks a lot like the art seen in elven ruins.”

Solas cleared his voice, and his stare become just a bit more narrowed.  “That would be deliberate on my part.  It was always my intention to stay as traditional as possible while painting an _elven_ fresco.”

Tilting my head slightly, I said, “Abelas thinks you must have a strong gift for replication.  He said your fresco looks exactly like the ones at his temple.”

Solas inclined his head, and replied, “That is a generous compliment.  I will have to give him my thanks.”

“Yeah.”  I sat up, stretching lazily, and smiled.  When Solas smiled back, it didn’t look near as strained as it should have.  “He hangs out on the ramparts sometimes, if you need to find him.  He doesn’t like being near so many shem.”

“That is unsurprising, and I’m sure an understatement as well,” Solas said, adding a light laugh as if to ease up the tension that was sitting between us.  “Fitz, would you allow me to change the topic for a moment?  There is something I’ve wished to ask you for a while now.”

Heaving a small sigh, I stood up, shrugging at him as I went.  Fiddling with a large book on his desk, turning the pages and looking through them with a deliberately nonchalant expression.

“What is it like conversing with the contents of the Well?” he asked, hands folded before him.  He remained seated, even as I wandered closer to him.  I glanced over briefly before picking up a large book that was sitting on the end of his desk, flicking between pages with a deliberately nonchalant expression on my face.  Solas apparently had more to say, because he continued speaking when I didn’t immediately answer. 

“It is evident that you are somehow able to understand them despite all reason – such as the fact that you do not speak ancient elvhen.  I must admit, I do not understand how it is even possible for you to understand their words, and the meanings behind them.”

My hand paused half-way through flipping a page, but it only lasted a moment.  “It’s pretty easy.  I mean, I don’t get it either, but…its less like hearing people talk, as it is, uh, _feeling_ someone’s thoughts?  I dunno, man, I can’t explain it.  I bet Cole would get it.”

“You sound awfully unconcerned for someone who just bound himself to an ancient elvhen goddess,” Solas commented, not sounding particularly pleased by my uncaring response.  “You are not at all fearful of living the rest of your life tied to the will of Mythal?”

“You mean an ancient elvhen goddess whose magic won’t even be able to touch me?” I countered easily, if a bit arrogantly.  Solas seemed to mull it over, ignoring my tone, but his silence made me want to go on, partially because I knew I was getting too mouthy and needed to step back a little.

“I mean, it’s completely skeevy, right?  I drank the souls of the damned and accepted the devil into my heart, so…yeah, that’s kinda scary, I guess.  But, like…”  I shrugged, still holding a shade of that arrogance that was probably making me sound annoyingly insolent.  “I don’t…really care?  You know…just bein’ completely honest right here.”

Solas stared at me in disbelief.

“You don’t care that you’ve essentially given yourself over to the mother of vengeance?”

I made a face at him.  “Bro, not from here, remember?  Your religions or whatever don’t got anythin’ to do with me.”

I swear Solas looked to be at a loss, and I could hear it in his voice when he asked his next question.

“Then, you do not even feel Mythal’s presence?  Not even after you drank from the Well?” he asked, and I admired his composure in that moment.  “She does not speak to you as the whispers do?”

I hummed, closing the book with a careful hand, and looked over at the elf sitting in front of me, trying to focus on him for a moment longer.  I’d had about enough of talking about this; it was high time I got out of it.  “Nah.” 

I turned, letting down my guards and listening to a whisper; fully intending to allow it to take me away from my conversation with Solas.  I glanced at him one last time before saying, “I don’t feel anything.” 

“I gotta go,” I added quickly, perhaps a bit too abruptly, and then I was barreling out of the rotunda, ignoring Solas’ attempt to reach out to me, without so much as a backwards glance.

When I did finally speak with Mythal, it wasn’t awe-inspiring, and nor was it even particularly insightful.  It was a panicked mess of a conversations that left me cursing in my sleep and for many days afterwards.

~

Of course she’d appear in a dream.

Of course I’d see her again, and _of fucking course_ she was more than some simple human I’d met in the goddamn Fade.  I could almost hit myself for not automatically expecting it, for not piecing it all together from the get go, but at least I could say I wasn’t surprised.

“You?” I gasped.  It wasn’t a gasp of astonished clarity at the sight of the woman in front of me; I almost wasn’t even fazed by the sight of Flemeth at all, but it was the scenery around us that had me reeling. 

“I’m glad to see that you held up your end of the bargain,” Flemeth said, standing over me.  “I thought all the cues would simply go over your head, but it seems your intuition is greater than I gave you credit for.”

I was on the ground, just lying there, so I stood up in a rush of shaky limbs.  Our surroundings weren’t normal at all; it was the last thing on this fucking planet that I ever wanted to see.  It looked like we were in the Fade.

“Wha – the –” I said, shaking my head.  “ _Fuckin’ really?_ ”

“Why – why the _fuck_ am I here?”

“Perhaps I just wished to see your face once more?”

“This a dream, right?”  It was desperation that colored my words, and I think Flemeth might’ve looked pitying for a moment before her usual veneer of humored disdain was back in place.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Lady, you’re a sick son of a –”

Flemeth waved a hand, and I was very forcibly shut up.  The air rushed out of my throat and my words were strangled like they had hit a literal wall; it was an odd and disturbing feeling overall, though it lasted for maybe a second at most.

Flemeth’s hold wasn’t strong, funnily enough.  I wondered if that motion was supposed to keep me silent until her say so, but after that short pause, I was talking once more.

“Nice,” I hissed, teeth clenched tight as I straightened out of whatever Flemeth did to me.  “You wanna try again?  I think I can take it.”

She was speechless, and I almost reveled in it. 

“That is…surprising,” she said, staring at me with a wide-eyed face that was quickly brought back to that of pure composure.  “But, then again, you are a surprising thing.  Consider me pleased.  It seems I have made the right decision in saving you.  You have not only led me to my true desires, but you are a refreshingly sturdy, young thing.”

I had a rush of strength run through me after breaking Flemeth’s control, and it made the dream’s backdrop feel so much less real all of a sudden.  I could _breathe_.

“You're tellin' me you're _pleased_ that you can’t control me?” I scoffed back, brushing aside her others words as I remained unsure of whether I had to get ready to fight her or something. 

“Pleased that I can’t _completely_ control you,” she amended for me, inclining her head.  “We are still connected, you and I, and it is through that connection that I control what you hear and I can freely tell you what it is that I want.  I never wanted a mindless slave, dear boy.  I never wanted that at all.”

“What do you even want then?” I asked quickly, mind racing between different topics.  Flemeth was Mythal, that was clear, but everything else was shady at best.  I wasn't quite prepared to accept the existence of a god, to be completely honest.

I could remember stories I’d heard, from people and from the voices sharing my head, and it was like I needed to know the real story.  It felt so important, and the voices were crying for it too, so I had to -

“You were betrayed... _they_ killed you.  Where have you been –”

“That, child, is a conversation for another time,” she said, cutting me off with a clear voice.  “Preferably when you are awake, and in a better mood.  We’ll be seeing each other very soon.”

I woke up in my room, with the same stone walls surrounding me and the same draft coming from the window on my left-hand side.  The shuddery sigh that left my mouth might have been louder than I meant, but I couldn’t help it.  The pillow underneath my head was a bit soaked with sweat, so I had to flip it over, laying back down with my face squished into the cool fabric, breathing in deep.

Did the spirit not tell her? 

If it was true that I was more magic than we’d thought, with magic being at the very base of my being, then even signing myself over to a god couldn’t get rid of that.  And, if she was surprised at my ability to brush off her hold, then the spirit must not have told her how different I was.  But, if that spirit was a friend of Mythal, why wouldn’t it tell her?

She couldn’t control me, not really, and the rush of relief that flooded through my body was almost more than I could register.  I just didn’t understand why she would be happy about it.  If she had some kind of plan to use me, wouldn’t that be ruined since she couldn’t just force me to do her every bidding?  Did she just have faith that I would follow her; that I would just believe her cause, her _unknown_ cause, to be a just one? 

Unsurprisingly, the voices in my head were on her side ( _she is just, she is right, she will save us all_ ), and they definitely didn’t agree with my talking back to their precious god.  They got louder for a moment, before I could properly stifle them.

I continued to lay there, but I didn’t go back to sleep.

~

“Was he mad?” I asked, blanket partially covering my mouth.  I didn’t move it, but Merrill heard me perfectly anyways.  She turned over so that she was facing me, hers eyes soft.

I don’t remember when she started staying with me in my room, but I think Cole might have said something, or maybe she just knew I was having trouble, that the nightmares weren’t all that great and I was kind of scared to be alone.  Merrill could read things like that, and even though she wanted me to talk about it, I preferred her being there with me over being by myself.

“In the beginning, yes,” she said, not even needing me to explain my abrupt question.  “But, anger helps in those kinds of situations, does it not?  When he sees you again, it won’t be with anger.  He’ll be much too relieved, and happy.”

“Leliana hasn’t heard back from them yet,” I pressed on, mind jumping from place to place.  “They should’ve –”

“Carrier birds get lost all the time, Fitz,” Merrill replied softly, nudging me with an elbow.  “If anything, it’ll be a surprise for all of us when they finally arrive.  And, Varric may even send a letter if they pass through a village.  There’s still time.”

“They’re probably being very careful,” she continued, sounding deep in thought.  “What with Anders accompanying them.  Once they part ways with him, they won’t have to hide anymore.”

“They should bring him here,” I said without really thinking.  “’Rita can judge his crimes, and then make him repent or whatever by working for the Inquisition.”

“I don’t know if it’s that simple,” Merrill replied, though it sounded like she was thinking the same thing.   “Though, I suppose the Inquisitor would be receptive enough that she wouldn’t immediately sentence Anders to death.”

“Dark,” I commented, though I knew there were plenty of people who would rather see Anders dead than alive.  “He can’t keep running forever.”

“None of us can,” I continued, whispering my words into the blanket, almost too low to hear.

“If they don’t arrive this upcoming week, let us plan to send another letter,” Merrill suggested.  “While our feathery friend is a secret, I also have to wonder if it is not an _open_ secret, considering the considerable might of the Inquisitor’s spy network.  I wonder if the spymaster knows already…”

“I dunno,” I said doubtfully, rolling over so that I was laying on my back.  “I don’t think ‘Rita knows, or Cassandra.  We woulda heard about her breaking down a wall in anger or somethin’ like that.”

Merrill sighed.  “I wish she would.  All this hiding-tip-toeing business is much too complicated.  To be perfectly honest, I’m tired of it.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a laugh.  “Varric might die though.”

“Oh, Hawke wouldn’t let that happen,” Merrill assured me, possibly not catching the joke and thinking it a very real possibility that Varric would be in trouble of dying at the hands of a pissed off Seeker.  I didn’t ask for clarification though, because a wave of sleepiness rolled over me, making me yawn loudly.

“You should sleep,” Merrill told me quietly.  “It’s late.”

“Yeah.”  I paused for a moment, thinking, but it just took the slightest of hesitations before I got the nerve to say my thoughts aloud.  "It'd be nice.  Seeing _everyone_ again."

Merrill sniffed, rustling on her side of the bed.  "It certainly would be, wouldn't it?"

~

Later that night, or early morning, I sat in bed with dried sweat gluing my hair to my forehead and feeling so stuffy, I could hardly breathe.  Merrill had opened the window, but even the mountain chill couldn’t completely get rid of the strain in my chest or the heat in my ears and head.

“He was okay about though, right?” I asked, panting a bit.  I probably wasn’t making much sense, but it was hard to think and it wasn’t only my thoughts I was hearing, which made the situation even more difficult.  “He believed me?”

“He read your journals many times,” Merrill told me, swiping my hair back and running her hand through it gently.  She sat up straight in bed, giving me space, but also giving me a sense of safety from her presence.  “Of course he believed you.  We all do.”

“It didn’t change anythin’?”

“No, no, Fitz,” Merrill whispered, fingers still running lines across my head, “Hawke loves you just as he did before.  Your past doesn’t change the way we feel about you. lethallin.”

“I’m gonna tell him everythin’,” I told her, desperately, “face to face, and it’s gonna be him.  I’m not pushing people away, I’m not –”

“Shh,” Merrill ran her other hand across my forehead, and it felt so blessedly cool, “That’s right, Fitz.  You’re doing all you can – come on, drink some water for me, please?”

I grabbed her hand, holding onto it weakly, and let her help me up so that I was sitting.  I was finally calming down, and I guess I must have looked it, because Merrill left my side to refill the cup she’d pressed to my lips only moments before. 

There was a draft in the room, and I finally realized why it felt so nice.  The Fade was never cold, and it was never windy. 

The cold air might have been freezing once, but now it just made me feel safe.

~

~

I spent most of my days writing everything down; doing record-keeping, a lot like when I was writing down the stories of my past for my journals.  I had whole lists of things, written in translatable elven, and I was even thinking of making my own language chart when the whispers went quiet.  They went quiet, and it wasn’t even by my own doing.

I could shut them out most of the time, though from what I gathered from Abelas, that was supposed to be impossible.  He didn’t know me though, and I knew it had to do with my story, so I didn’t share it with anyone.  Not even with Amrita, and the others who knew.  I didn’t like them knowing.  It made me feel like I was on display. 

Morrigan didn’t know, and she had very little patience for me these days.  Her comments, stunted and hostile, always hit the mark about how she should have been the one to take the Well.  She knew so much about the elvhen, of course, and she would have been best equipped to deal with the sudden overflowing of knowledge pouring through my veins.  But, the fact remained, Mythal apparently chose me, and not her.  And, you know, not for nothing, but I wasn’t doing as poorly as she thought.  I was just particular about what bits of information needed sharing, and if she thought I’d be inclined to be straight with her despite her shitty attitude, she had another thing coming.

So, it was just typical that everything would come to a head eventually, and that ‘eventually’ happened when Morrigan's son fled through her goddamned Eluvian.  I knew what was happening right away, for once in my life, even though I really wished I didn’t.

~

“Amrita, I don’t like this,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach, watching Amrita pace back and forth in front of the Eluvian.

We had just been taking a walk, a _relaxing_ walk, through the gardens when Leliana burst out of the room that held Morrigan’s Eluvian, quickly hailing us over to her side.  It all went downhill from there, and I was left regretting ever leaving the ramparts.

Leliana had left the two of us standing there, running for help or something, but Amrita was impatient and the Eluvian was still glowing, and I knew exactly what she was thinking.

“I have to follow her,” Amrita came to the decision, halting her pacing abruptly and delivering me a determined glance as she stepped towards the damn thing.  “Tell Leliana.  I’ll bring them both back.”

I shook my head, and watched Amrita disappear through the mirror.  It still glowed, still active, and despite what I wanted, I felt compelled to follow.

Compelled.  As in, I literally had something in my mind telling me to move forward and follow Amrita through the goddamn looking glass.  I knew damn well what was going on, and it made me feel so sick.

“Fuck me, fuck,” I spat at the ground, as I traced Amrita’s steps.  I couldn’t stop the full body flinch as I neared the mirror, and the bile that rose up in my throat was predictable though I managed to choke it down.

I was shaking by the time I actually passed through and then, when I realized where I’d landed, I couldn’t stop myself from falling down. 

It was basically like the worst thing to ever happen, and I probably would’ve had a mental break if not for the voice in my head telling me to chill out and follow its directions.

I cursed that voice in at least ten different ways, even as I swallowed my panic and followed the path it told me to go.

It led me right to Amrita, and Morrigan and her kid too.

And, surprise, Flemeth was there as well.

“Okay, Satan,” was the first thing out of my mouth, and it was so shaky and weak that it didn’t quite have the accusing tone I was aiming for, but I soldiered on.  “You wanna go?  I’ll deck an old woman, I don’t give a fuck.”

“There he is,” Flemeth smiled, breaking her gaze away from her daughter to stare at me.  “And as rude as the last time we spoke.”

“Fitz, what are you –” Amrita turned towards me, horror written across her face.  “Why did you follow me?”

I shook my head, sending Flemeth a scowl at the same time and when I next spoke, my words were directed solely at Flemeth.  “Lady, you’re gettin’ on my last fuckin’ nerves.”

“I told you we would see each other again,” Flemeth said, with a small smirk dancing across her face.  “I don’t know why you’re so riled up.”

“Probably ‘cuz we’re in the goddamn Fade, you evil b –”

“Excuse me,” Morrigan interrupted, with a vicious edge to her words.  “Either explain yourself or _be_ _silent_.”  She tore her glare away from me, directing it and her next words at Flemeth instead, “I want my son back, _now_ , mother.  I don’t care for whatever game it is that you are playing here.”

I looked at the kid, at how utterly unafraid he seemed, and then at Flemeth.  She looked back at me for a moment, and I set my jaw as we stared at each; communicating without speaking this time. 

“This is not a game, my child,” Flemeth said to Morrigan, though she was still staring at me.  “He is here for a reason,” she continued, looking between Amrita and Morrigan as if wondering which one would figure it out first.  “Because I called him here.”

My appearance had frazzled Morrigan’s already worn-out nerves, and I could tell when everything clicked for her, because she breathed in deep, eyes wide, and uttered her words with slow distinction.

“You are Mythal.”

After that, it was one explanation after the other, and I think I learned more about Flemeth than I thought I ever would.  I saw her get emotional, and I’m pretty sure it was real.

Morrigan’s anger steadied me for some reason, as did the presence of Amrita, who immediately grabbed my hand in hers when Flemeth finally released the boy, who ran for his mother’s side without another moment’s delay, and turned to stare at me once more.

“And you, my dear chosen one,” she said with an air of dry humor.  My eyes locked onto hers instantly at the sudden attention, though I’d been waiting for it.  “How shall my gift benefit you and yours, I wonder?  Listen to me, and heed my words, so that you may help your friends.”

Amrita’s hand was tight in mine, and it took a minute for me to realize that I was the one squeezing, and then Flemeth was turning, leaving without another word.  Morrigan called after her, one broken cry that sounded more like a slip of the tongue, but Flemeth was already gone, and we needed to leave too.

I did as she bid, and what I heard was something about a dragon.

~

A few days after the fiasco with Morrigan's so called mother, I was doing my best to stay positive.  I was trying to repress the whole thing, because old habits die hard, so I figured the best way to do that was to lay low and just chill out.  Dorian may not have been the best of choices, but he at least didn't try to talk to me about dragons or elvhen goddesses, unlike some other people.

“You know, it came as a big surprise to all of us,” Dorian said, and I almost thought he wasn’t going to explain.  I thought he was just going to leave me there staring at him dumbly, but then he gave me a look and continued, “While it was obvious that you had secrets, being in love with the Champion of Kirkwall was the last one I would have expected.”

I rolled my eyes so far back in my head, I got lightheaded, and groaned.  “That’s what you’re gonna focus on?  God, bro, you’re sayin’ my thing with Hawke is a bigger shock than coming from another fucking world?”

We were both sat in his little corner of the library, which was dwindling in numbers despite the relatively early hour.  I had claimed his cushy armchair, while Dorian sat at his desk, stabbing a pen to a piece of paper like it had mortally offended him.  He was probably making more demands for ‘proper literature’ to be added to the Inquisition shelves, but he also could have easily been writing a simple letter for all I knew. 

Dorian gave me a very dry look, and his tone was almost reproachful when he replied.  “Well, to be completely fair, you won’t let us talk about that _small_ aspect of your life.”

I eyed him wearily, wondering.  I got the feeling he wanted to talk about it, but then again, I’m sure everybody wanted to talk about it.  I knew Hawke would, whenever he finally returned.

“Is it true Hawke helped you with your research?” I asked suddenly, letting my voice harden as I observed Dorian’s reaction.  He looked momentarily surprised at the change in topic, but recovered quickly, as was expected of him.  He laughed.

“We had a grand time of sorting through academic nonsense,” Dorian said with an air of sarcasm, the letter or book proposal completely forgotten on his desk.  “Like a pair of jaded treasure seekers, amongst heaps and heaps of garbage.  But, to answer your question, yes.  Hawke threw nearly as many books as I did.”

I imagined Hawke conducting research, and drew up a blank.  It was too hard to picture, but I was willing to bet Hawke was desperate enough to give it a try if it meant he was doing something useful while I was trapped.  And, additionally, Dorian’s company was probably a welcome distraction in those days, so I suppose I had to thank the guy for letting Hawke taint his library nook while I was gone.

I had talked to Merrill already, and I actually told her quite a bit about my old life, so it wasn’t as hard talking about it this time. 

“I was born in New York City, which is in the state of New York, which lies within nation of the United States of America,” I told Dorian in a rush of words, enjoying the look of surprise that came over him.  “We were one of the richest nations in the world, I think, but also one of the shittiest.  A long history of colonialism and structural racism, much like Tevinter or whatever.  Kirkwall, too.”

“These things,” I continued, pointing to my ears, which were proudly showing thanks to the haircut Merrill had given me not too long ago, “are just ears.  Where I’m from, there’s no such thing as elves or whatever the fuck else – only humans.  The eye and ear thing that the elves here got goin’ on are natural back home, ya know, like a genetic thing.”

“My dad was a teacher and we lived in a pretty decent apartment building,” I said, finishing up, shaky from saying so much that I rarely ever spoke aloud.  “I was still in school when I got dragged here, but I guess our educational system isn’t as shit as the ones you got, ‘cuz I’m considered well-educated here and I don’t even got a GED.”  I sucked in a breath, because I was all out.  “So, there.  I hope you feel special, I ain’t sayin’ all that ever again.”  I flopped back in my chair, slouching low and staring at the rows of books that reached all the way up to the ceiling while Dorian stared at me.

“You do realize that half of your words only raised more questions, yes?” he finally said, and I grinned a little.

“Quota filled, no more talk,” I replied in broken speech, loudly, and Dorian just sighed.

“I hope you don’t give Hawke this much trouble,” he said, in a pitying tone.  “Or Merrill, in that case.  The poor dear…”

“This is practice,” I stated, stretching out in my armchair and accidentally kicking over one of the stacks of books that Dorian had decorating his little nook.  While he cursed me, I continued, “More I talk about this shit, the easier it’ll be when Hawke gets back.”

“That’s…surprisingly mindful of you, Fitz,” Dorian told me, thoughtfully, as he left his desk to crouch over his fallen books.

“Eh,” I scoffed, rising up to leave.  “Fuck off, sayin’ that like I’m not gonna try with this.”

“You are not the most considerate person, as you well know,” Dorian shot back, pointedly looking at the books I kicked over and wasn’t helping to pick up.  “You’re more of the type to spout off some defensive nonsense.  It’s as though you’d rather have the truth forced out of you, in an angry mess than willingly say anything of actual substance.”

“You comin’ for me, bro?” I asked, squinting my eyes at him.  “You wanna go or somethin’?”

“Please,” Dorian said, sighing.  “You _know_ I don’t understand your particular brand of vernacular.”

“Bruh, goin’ for my weak spots an’ shit,” I continued, knowing it would annoy him.  “You sav’.”

Dorian hurled a book over his shoulder, which I easily dodged, and the thing made a loud sound as it smacked against the railing that overlooked Solas’ little office.  As an attest to Dorian’s habits, no one so much as looked over at us, despite the random display of semi-loud violence.

“Take a chill pill, man,” I told him breezily, backing away.  “You got, like, mad anger issues, ya know that?”

“That’s redundant,” Dorian retorted, gracing me with a properly annoyed look, and I knew it was time to say goodbye.  “At least explain what –”

“Whoa, bro, would you look at that?” I exclaimed, looking at the nonexistent watch on my wrist.  “Time for me to scat.  See ya!”

I made sure to saunter away extra casually, heading for the staircase leading down to Solas’ part of the rotunda, and was satisfied to hear Dorian’s curses aimed at my back.  It was always fun messing with him, and it was almost even more fun now that I didn’t really have to hide anything.

I hoped it was like that when Hawke was back.  I didn’t want my story to change anything.

It would be bad enough trying to explain the whole Well of Sorrows business to him and that other thing…but, I was trying not to think about that.

~

“Let me guess,” Leliana surmised grimly, eyes taking in the solo entrance of the Inquisitor with a sharp gaze.  “He’s on the ramparts again.  And he’s refusing to leave.”

Amrita looked away for a second, coming to a stop before the large table and gripping its edges with strong fingers.  “He doesn’t want to miss Hawke’s arrival.”

Cullen sighed loudly, rubbing a hand over his forehead and exchanging worn out looks with the other advisors.  “While I understand his…sentiments, this is important.  We need him here, and he needs to –”

“Leave him be,” Amrita begged, tagging on a quick ‘please’ at the end.  She turned swiftly to address Leliana once again.

“You said Hawke should only be a few more days, yes?” she asked, nodding her head along with the short incline of Leliana’s head.  The spymaster had heard word of the Champions approach, though it seemed their messages had failed to reach him.  “So, we wait until then.  Once they are together again, we will be able to move on.  Hawke will bring Fitz out of the strop he’s in, and then Fitz will tame his dragon for us and we can all move forward.  For now, we do what we can.  Is that alright?”

Amrita spoke amicably, almost appealingly, but there was an undeniable tone of authority that could not be ignored throughout her little speech.  There was no room for rejection or fighting, and the advisors heard it loud and clear.  And, they obliged.

“I would like to suggest that more men be outpost along the trading routes,” Josephine changed topics with a bright voice, “Our merchants have been complaining of bandits and the like.  It would be best to ensure that they may reach Skyhold with minimal hardships.”

“Agreed,” Amrita replied just as brightly, relieved at the new subject.  “I think we should also focus on the happenings in the Wilds.  My last few missives were troublesome, as you all know.”

“I do still have eyes there,” Leliana said, with a bit of an edge.  “Though, I’m certain an actual trip to the area would be much more beneficial.”

Amrita held back a flinch, and simply returned the spymaster’s heavy stare with one of equal weight.

“I will outfit more soldiers to leave for the Wilds this week,” Cullen announced quickly, before inclining his head to Josephine and saying, “More soldiers will be stationed along the roads as well.”

“Good.  What news of Val Royeux?  I believe they were attempting to…”

~

“Have you eaten?”

I cringed, shooting a slightly reproachful glance towards Amrita from my position nestled in the gaps between the parapets that lined the rampart walls.  “Yes.”

She replied with a stern look, and walked closer to me.  “Bull said you’ve been up here since the morning.  Haven’t left.”

“Bull is a one-eyed liar,” I shot back, shifting around so that I was more huddled in on myself.  With my chin resting on the tops of my knees, I resumed looking out at the black stretch of walkway below me.  There were really only a few lights interspaced along that path, most of them congregating nearest to the castle walls, but still I watched. 

“You have to eat.”  Amrita nudged me with one hand, and I glanced over to see her shoving what looked like a sandwich at me.  I sighed, but took it anyway.

Taking a huge bite, I asked, “Happy?”

“No,” she said glumly, leaning against the parapet next to me.  “Can’t you come inside?  I have multiple people on the lookout for Hawke.  People who haven’t been out since dawn. People who aren’t _freezing_.”

“Chill, I’m fine.”

Hawke didn't arrive that night, and I sort of knew he wouldn't, but I liked being up there rather than inside, mostly because sleep wasn't my favorite thing to do lately.  And I was excited.  Waiting felt like a really long time, and time in turn seemed to drag by at the slowest rate possible.  

I knew the others were impatient with me, and that they were more focused on the bigger picture, which was probably good since I suppose they are kind of saving the world, but I wasn't moving out of this goddamned castle until I'd seen Hawke first.

I wasn't leaving unless he was leaving with me.

~

It was bright out when I first caught sight of him.  Bright, but my eyes were still blurry and it took me a good second to figure out what exactly I was looking at.  Who I was looking at; walking along the pathway to the front gates, still at a good distance away.

It was Hawke, and Varric, Fenris, and, god, Isabela was there too, heading towards Skyhold in a slow troupe while I was sat up high above them in my usual spot with Cole by my side.

My breath sucked in through some unconscious act on my part, and I couldn’t speak.  I threw out a hand, lightly smacking Cole’s arm, but he was already moving, dragging me down from the wall with him.

“I’ll get Merrill,” was all he said, and then he was gone.

I don’t know how long I stood there, leaning against the nearest parapet with what must have been the dumbest look on my face, but it definitely wasn’t for a long time.  My eyes tracked Hawke’s form, and I knew I was too far away for them to make me out.  I had height as an advantage, and a parapet that I was partially hidden behind, and I would recognize Hawke _anywhere_.

I didn’t hear Cole return, and nor did I hear Merrill’s entrance.  It was sudden, because next thing I knew, she was gripping my arm and peering in between the parapets just like I was, her shoulder resting right up against my arm, the pointy edge of her ear poking at my neck.

“It _is_ them,” she breathed, “Oh, Fitz, we must go down and meet them!  They’re so close!”

I hesitated, nerves practically jumping out of my throat, but then Hawke’s head jerked to the side, saying something to Varric, and the way he was gripping his bag with one hand, the sack thrown over his shoulder and just nearly slipping off – it was so familiar, and my heart just _ached_.

I yelled his name, once and then twice, but it was on the first shout that froze him in his steps, his head swiveling towards me in one quick snap and I swear I could _see_ his eyes widening even from this far away.

My grin was taking over my entire face as I flailed my arm out in a wild wave, Merrill copying me with equal enthusiasm.  I jumped up a little, waving some more, and I was just about to call his name once more when Hawke started _running_.

His bag fell off his shoulder, but that’s all I really had time to see, because I was already pushing off of the parapet and turning around, fully intending to book it down the ramparts and to the front gates.

Hawke was back, after so many weeks and absolutely no contact, and I was having trouble thinking.

It didn’t seem to matter, though.

Merrill was right at my heels as we pelted down the stairs, and she shouted out apologies to the people I pushed past, but we had been standing right above the gates, so we really didn’t have far to go once we’d cleared the stairs.

The gates were already open, and Hawke must’ve really been running, because he was only a few yards away. 

When I’d been standing atop the ramparts, setting eyes on Hawke for the first time in _forever_ , I’d immediately blocked everything else out of my mind.  I swear to god, nothing else mattered, because, damn, I literally didn’t notice anything _but_ him.  Only him.

My heart swelled at the instantaneous way his eyes locked onto me, and I was still running towards him, just like he was still running to me, and then –

We collided, so heavily that we had to spin around just to maintain the wild hug we’d thrown ourselves in.

Hawke held me close, arms wrapped tightly around my torso, and my grip was just as vice-like as I clung to him with my arms around his neck.  He loosened one hand in order to bring it up to press against my head, pushing my face even further into his neck, and I tightened my hold, happily pressing my cheek into the uncovered part of his neck.

“How…” his voice was cracked, and he didn’t try to finish.  I think he needed a moment, to breath or something, because if it were the same for him as it were for me, I couldn’t even spin together a coherent thought let along actual words. 

Hawke’s lips were against my ear, and I twitched a little when he exhaled a long, shaky breath, and I let up on my death grip, attempting to at least somewhat calm myself. 

Lightly hitting my fist against his armored shoulder, with my face still pressed into the crook of his neck, I mumbled out, “You didn’t answer the stupid birds.  We sent two.”

I think my voice jolted him out of his daze, because he finally pulled back, though his hands remained holding onto me.  Hawke pushed me lightly so that I was far away enough that we could properly look at each, since our previous positions really only allowed limited sight.

His eyes were wide, and he couldn’t seem to work his mouth properly to keep it from hanging slightly ajar.  He stared for a moment, and then he was moving his hands; the one that had been tangled in my hair fell down to my neck, his fingers acting as some kind of support and his thumb rested under my chin.  His other hand left my back in favor of touching my face; his fingers ran over my forehead, pushing curls out of the way, and his thumb swiped over one of my bushy eyebrows, going lower until he was cradling my cheek with the same gentleness reserved for something unbelievably fragile.

I covered that hand with my own, pressing, and gave him a watery smile; I wasn’t even wondering what to say, because I was just so preoccupied with taking in the pure sight of him.

His lips twitched, and he gulped as though he were trying to swallow an onslaught of emotions, which was probably exactly what that gulp was for.

I still had one arm around his neck, and it was hanging somewhat limply across the back of his chest plate, but I couldn’t easily move it because of our current interlocked position with both of Hawke’s hands holding my face, so I just left it there even though I kind of wanted to copy him and trail my fingers along his jaw and the shaggy beard that engulfed it.

I settled for just smiling at him, holding his hand in mine even tighter.

Hawke’s eyes looked me up and down, and the disbelief was still there, and there were questions; questions that he couldn’t form the words for, and questions that I knew I had to answer.

“There was an Eluvian, in the Fade, and well, a woman too, but I’ll tell you ‘bout her later, ‘kay?”  I nodded my head up and down roughly, as I rushed on, “So, I go through the Eluvian, pop out in some weird temple, right?  And I’m surrounded by all these freaky elves, they’re like a cult, and they want me to go all Taker-of-Knowledge with this Well-shit, and then the fuckin’ Inquisition shows up, and Merrill too!  And I’m like, fuck – what the fuck, right? – And then –”

“I haven’t heard a Maker damned word you’ve said,” Hawke butted in, with a long exhale.  His hands pressed into my face a little more, unconsciously I think.  “You need to speak slower, and _breathe_.”

“Fuck all that, I’ll tell you later,” I said back, doing as he said and taking in a deep breath.  “I missed you, I – I waited, but – you’re here now.”  I think I was crying, my face was wet, but I still had to say something else.  I had to.

“I love you.”

~

Fitz was looking up at him with shiny eyes, and even with the dark circles and the thinner face, it was the same Fitz that Hawke remembered.  His hair was shorter than before, most likely freshly cut, and it was shaved around the ears, which only served to make them more pronounced. 

But, he was alive, and with all things considered, Fitz didn’t look too bad.  Thinner, and there was a tiredness that showed through the excitement on his face, but he was _alive_.  And that look, Maker be damned, that look on his face was one of pure love; a smile so wide stretched across his face, eyes so soft, it practically made Hawke’s knees weak.

“I should be furious with you,” Hawke said, instead of returning the other man’s sentiments.  Despite his words, Hawke didn’t push away.  Quite the opposite, he pulled Fitz forward once again, dropping his head down so that it rested perfectly against the other man’s forehead.

Fitz turned his head slightly to the side so that he could speak, taking in Hawke’s closed eyes and the tight way that he still held him.

“Yeah, Merrill said you were mad…” Fitz bit his lip, and Hawke’s eyes remained closed.  “But, that’s cool.  I’ll work for it, right?  I’ll, like…make up for it and shit.”

“You pushed me,” Hawke said, as if he hadn’t heard Fitz’ rambling.  “You pushed me out of a fucking rift and locked yourself inside the Fade for _six_ months, Fitz.  How could you –”  Hawke pulled his head back, eyes suddenly wide.

The sight of a seemingly healthy Fitz had taken him off guard; he hadn’t even entertained the thought that the man could be _injured_.

“Are you hurt?  _Are you alright_?”

Hawke pulled back further, lowering his hands, which had nestled right back into the soft curls on the top of Fitz’ head, and began patting the man down; hands fluttering around, looking for possible injuries.

Fitz put up with Hawke’s mini-panic for a second, two seconds tops, before warding off further pats by waving his hands around, lightly knocking the other man’s hands away.

“Dude, I’m –”  Fitz almost said ‘fine’, but that was a kind of lie and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go down that road of lying about shit again, so he told the truth instead.  “Okay, I’m not okay, but I’m – I’m not hurt.  I’ve been looked over probably ten million times since arriving here, you’re not gonna find a mortal wound on this body.”

“Would I find _a_ wound?”  Hawke questioned as he knocked down the hands that Fitz had held up in front of him.  He didn’t resume searching for injuries; in fact, he wasn’t sure _what_ to do.  The need to touch Fitz, just to feel him, was dire, but he just wasn’t sure. 

Fitz saved Hawke from having to think any further, because right after Hawke’s rather accusatory question, he had surged forward.  Fitz placed himself as close as possible to Hawke, leaving just enough room for him to grab a fistful of the undershirt that peeked out from beneath the other man’s chest plate, and then he proceeded to stare at Hawke with such determination, that the man didn’t so much as move.

“I spent a lot of time thinkin’ ‘bout what I was gonna say to you,” Fitz said, sounding almost angry.  “And everything I thought up just sounded stupid, so all I’ve got to say is I love you, and I missed you, and I’m sorry for everything, but – but, I’m also ready.”

“I’m ready to tell you anything, and everything, you wanna know.  I’m ready to say ‘I love you’ and not feel bad about it, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my goddamn life with you, so can I just please kiss you and get it over with?  You’re fuckin’ killin’ me here –”

Hawke gave in all at once, and he didn’t care that he fell forward for a kiss right as Fitz was busy cursing at him, because as soon as his lips met Fitz’, the other man stopped talking immediately.  And then, it was like absolutely nothing in the world mattered; not the pain of being apart, not the Inquisition, and not even the fact that there were catcalls and whistling erupting around them, Isabela’s voice being the loudest contributor.

They pulled apart with an interesting mix of salt and spit on their lips, their hearts in their throats, and smiled, because for all the pain, and all the sorrow, they were together again.  And, this time, nothing would separate them ever again.  It was a promise, seen both in their eyes and their souls, and no words were needed to say it.

Being by each other’s sides was as right as it was natural.  There was still much that needed talking about, like the part of Hawke that was still burned by the way Fitz had left, but given enough time, they would heal, and grow even closer.  It was a surefire thing.  Hawke could feel the certainty in his bones as the others finally joined them; Varric stepping up to drag Fitz down into a crushing hug, Isabela aiming a hard smack to the younger man’s back, and Fenris smiling just a step behind the other two.  Hawke watched, and he knew this would last.

It was meant to.  It was always meant to.

~

They were huddled together at some far off table in the tavern, pressed in tight and drinking way into the night, when Fitz suddenly laughed, the sound sending waves of warmth through Hawke’s heart for probably the hundredth time that evening.

“So, how do you guys feel about a trip to the Arbor Wilds?” Fitz asked, a mischievous light in his eyes.  He leaned in, grinning at Hawke widely.  “I told you ‘bout the dragon thing, right?”

They hadn't gotten quite that far with talking, so Hawke was predictably dumbfounded for a moment or two before Fitz and Merrill combined forces to deliver the most rambling explanation anybody had ever heard.  Hawke pressed a hand to his head, and decided he would simply speak with Fitz about this later, because this night was for celebration; for a proper reunion (even if they were missing two people).  There had been a fight, a short-lived thing that took place long before they'd all decided to grace the tavern with their presence, but for once, it was a fight that they resolved.  It wasn't left hanging in the air between them, and it didn't leave eggshells for them to walk over for days on end.

In this moment though, at this bar, Hawke preferred to focus on the sheer amount of happiness he felt, a happiness bordering on giddiness, and nothing could top that.

Not even a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO; I'm not done with this story (so SO many loose ends and implications for the future in this chapter!), but I also don't know when I'll be able to update next, which might not be for a while. However! If you make sure to check out 'The Extras' and keep it bookmarked or whatever, I have TONS of stuff to post there (backstory, scenes that I couldn't fit into the recent chapters, MANY MORE HAWKE/FITZ SCENES, ect...also AUs, do you guys like AUs??) I think this chapter, and whatever fluff I add on, make for a good hiatus point, so I hope you guys don't feel totally left hanging!
> 
> That being said; I really can't stress how important and lovely all of you guys have been while I've been writing this thing. This story got me through a pretty tough year, and all the feedback and interaction with you guys made it all the more better, so thank you so much :) As always, I love hearing any and all thoughts and questions, so even if it's been a while, feel free to hit me up either on here or on my [tumblr!!](https://runningforprussia.tumblr.com) I love talking to you all ^-^
> 
> FANART:  
> happysnowdragon drew more art!!: [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/1t03x0ts4hdy2fr/FITZZZ1.png?dl=0) and [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/p635prxzzyr8tta/a%20fitz.png?dl=0) (LOOK AT MODERN FITZ)  
> AND! some [Fitz and Cole](https://www.dropbox.com/s/3ipkan5tk5bbd0y/SITZ%20AND%20COLE%20AND%20IRON%20MAN.png?dl=0) (+ Iron Man!! :D)


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